3  If 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

University  of  California. 


Class 


Theophano 

The  Crusade  of   the  Tenth  Century 


A  Novel 


By  Frederic  Harrison 


New  York  and  London 

Harper  &  Brothers   Publishers 
i  904 


Copyright,  1903,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 

All  rights  reserved. 

Published  October,  1904. 


OfL 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  The  Boy  Basileus i 

II.  The  Warden  of  the  Eastern  March  ...  15 

III.  The  Betrothal 25 

IV.  The  Young  Augusta 33 

V.  The  Dying  Emperor 43 

VI.  The  Coronation 55 

VII.  The  Confession 73 

VIII.  The  Sacred  Palace 83 

IX.  The  Muster  of  the  Crusade 101 

X.  The  Conquest  of  Crete 123 

XI.  The  Storming  of  Chandax 142 

XII.  Digenes  and  Fatima:  Roman  or  Saracen     .  159 

XIII.  The  Caliph  of  the  West 176 

XIV.  The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 193 

XV.  Empress  and  Chamberlain 210 

XVI.  C^SAR    AT    THE    RUBICON 231 

XVII.  The  New  Basileus 242 

XVIII.  Emperor  and  Patriarch 255 

XIX.  The  Saracen  Peril 270 

XX.  An  Emperor's  Day 284 

XXI.  Islam  and  Cross 301 

iii 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXII.  The  Stars  in  Their  Courses 317 

XXIII.  The  March  on  Antioch 334 

XXIV.  Love  and  Falsehood 356 

XXV.  Love  and  Troth 370 

XXVI.  Old  Rome 380 

XXVII.  Old    Rome    and    New    Rome — Rivals    in 

Empire 400 

XXVIII.  Basileus  in  Council 413 

XXIX.  The  Rising  Storm 427 

XXX.  The  Last  Campaign 44° 

XXXI.  The  Last  Agony 452 

XXXII.  Clytemnestra 465 

XXXIII.  Retribution 48° 


Theophano :   The  Crusade  of 
the  Tenth  Century 


O" 


UNIVERSITY 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of 
the  Tenth  Century 


The  Boy  Basileus 

TOWARDS  the  close  of  the  long  reign  of  Constantine 
Porphyrogennetus,  seventh  of  that  historic  name, 
a  hunting-party  from  the  royal  capital  of  Constantinople 
was  occupied  in  chasing  the  wild  boar  on  the  slopes 
of  Mount  Damatrys  on  the  Asian  side  of  the  Bosphorus. 
This  mountain,  now  called  Bulgarlu,  lay  a  few  miles 
eastward  of  Chrysopolis,  the  modern  town  of  Scutari, 
opposite  the  Golden  Horn.  In  the  middle  of  the  tenth 
century  of  our  era,  when  this  story  opens,  the  view 
from  the  mountain  on  the  Asian  side  of  the  Bosphorus 
was,  indeed,  very  different  from  that  which  delights 
the  traveller  to-day,  but  it  was  hardly  less  beautiful 
in  its  exquisite  union  of  wood,  sea,  rocky  headland, 
stately  towers,  and  domes. 

The  sun  was  hardly  risen  over  the  eastern  hills  in 
a  fresh  morning  of  spring — it  was  the  year  of  our  Lord, 
956 — when  a  body  of  huntsmen,  some  on  foot  and  some 
on  mountain-ponies,  were  seen  hastily  emerging  from 
the   dense  copse  of   the  forest   in   the    early   dawn. 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Clothed  in  short,  leather  jerkins  and  banded  leggings, 
with  close  skull-caps,  some  carried  lances,  some  bows 
and  arrows:  three  held  in  leash  powerful  hounds,  and 
others  were  bearing  stout  nets  and  poles.  They  were 
evidently  returning  home  in  haste  and  with  anxiety 
painted  in  all  their  movements.  A  mounted  man  of 
some  authority  now  pushed  his  way  to  the  front  and 
bade  them  seek  for  the  nearest  house  where  help  and 
shelter  could  be  obtained.  Coming  at  last  to  a  wood- 
man's half-ruined  hut,  he  struck  his  hunting-spear 
thrice  against  the  rude  door  of  the  hovel,  and  im- 
periously asked  if  any  man  was  within.  A  scared, 
half-clothed  old  man  unbolted  the  entrance,  and  stood 
with  bare  head,  trembling  before  his  questioner. 

"Which  is  the  nearest  house  wherein  a  wounded  man 
can  be  sheltered,  and  who  in  this  place  has  any  art 
in  stanching  a  flow  of  blood?"  called  out  the  horseman. 

"St.  Michael  save  us!"  cried  the  old  dotard;  "has 
fighting  begun  in  sight  of  the  Sacred  Palace  itself?" 

"Tush,  old  fool,  there  has  been  a  hunting  accident, 
and  a  noble  youth  is  now  bleeding  to  death!  Where, 
I  ask  again,  can  we  find  him  shelter  and  a  leech?" 

"The  house  there  of  Craterus,  the  Laconian,  at  the 
first  turn  of  the  path  below,  sometimes  gives  shelter 
and  accommodation  to  belated  travellers  at  need," 
quavered  the  terrified  hind.  "And  his  daughter  has  a 
gift  for  tending  poor  folk  in  sickness,  and  has  been 
known  to  set  a  bone  and  bind  up  a  broken  head." 

As  he  spoke,  a  small  party  of  men  in  hunting-garb 
emerged  from  the  dense  copse  and  cautiously  descended 
the  mountain -path.  They  were  bearing  some  burden 
on  a  rude  litter,  formed  out  of  the  stout  poles  and  heavy 
net  used  to  entangle  the  wild  boar  in  the  run  from 


The   Boy   Basileus 

his  lair.  As  they  came  down,  it  was  seen  that  their 
charge  was  a  tall  and  graceful  youth,  half  wrapped  in 
his  hunting -cloak,  deeply  smeared  with  blood.  He 
was  not  dead,  but  ghastly  pale  and  almost  insensible. 
His  beautiful  head,  that  might  have  served  for  a  marble 
Antinous,  lay  white  and  motionless  on  a  pillow  of 
purple  silk.  On  each  side  of  him  rode  a  horseman  of 
noble  bearing  and  athletic  frame,  both  turning  their 
eyes  with  a  look  of  anxiety  and  pain  from  the  fainting 
youth  to  each  other,  and  then  looking  out  along  the 
path  beyond.  Close  beside  the  litter  walked  another 
man,  grasping  with  all  his  force  the  thigh  of  the  wounded 
youth,  and  striving  to  stanch  the  blood  that  oozed 
from  it  with  a  folded  cloth. 

Guided  by  the  horseman  in  front,  they  soon  reached 
the  house  of  Craterus,  whom  they  succeeded  in  rousing 
from  his  bed  with  his  household.  It  was  a  long,  ram- 
bling edifice  of  no  pretension  without,  but  with  an  air 
of  space  and  comfort  within  that  no  chance  visitor 
would  suspect.  Craterus  led  the  bearers  and  attend- 
ants to  a  spacious  chamber  in  the  rear  of  the  house, 
where  the  youth  was  laid  softly  on  a  couch,  and  the 
old  man  bade  his  servants  to  summon  his  daughter 
and  her  maid  with  bandages  to  bind  a  wound.  The 
master  himself,  with  his  snow-white  beard,  his  delicate 
features,  and  lofty  forehead, might  have  stood  for  some 
bust  of  an  Attic  poet  had  not  his  singularly  handsome 
face  been  marred  by  keen,  roving,  and  somewhat  sin 
ister  eyes.  With  foxlike  glances  he  scrutinized  the 
youth  and  his  companions,  while  actively  busying  him- 
self with  all  that  he  could  devise  to  save  the  sufferer's 
life. 

At  this  moment  there  entered  a  girl  closely  veiled 

3 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

and  shrouded  in  a  long,  loose  wrapper,  attended  by  her 
old  nurse  and  a  younger  maid,  bearing  bandages  and 
surgical  appliances  of  a  simple  kind.  The  girl  herself 
was  so  much  concealed  by  her  draperies  that  little  of 
her  could  be  seen,  except  some  mysterious  beauty  like 
that  of  the  veiled  Isis;  for  her  full  wimple  betrayed 
nothing  but  the  perfect  features  of  a  Greek  goddess, 
with  lustrous  eyes  of  deep  sapphire.  The  old  nurse 
removed  the  coverings  from  the  limb  of  the  youth,  as 
he  lay  white  and  unconscious  from  loss  of  blood,  and 
her  trained  hands  laid  bare  the  wounded  thigh  and 
leg  which,  but  for  the  gash  caused  by  the  tusk  of  the 
boar,  was  of  the  faultless  symmetry  we  see  in  the 
Hermes  of  Olympia,  even  as  it  left  the  chisel  of  Prax- 
iteles. The  maiden  bent  over  him  in  pity  and  tender- 
ness, and  formed  a  group  as  if  it  were  Aphrodite  as 
she  hung  over  the  wounded  Adonis.  The  nurse,  di- 
rected by  her,  and  aided  by  the  nervous  arm  of  the 
attendant,  whose  thumb  so  long  had  closed  the  wound, 
succeeded  in  passing  a  rude  but  effective  tourniquet 
round  the  femoral  artery,  and  having  checked  the 
pumping  of  the  blood  downward,  they  dexterously 
bandaged  the  gaping  wound. 

A  breathless  silence  ensued  as  they  stood  around 
with  restoratives  and  strong  scents  and  endeavored  to 
restore  consciousness  to  the  youth.  At  last,  a  faint 
tinge  of  color  returned  to  the  marble  cheeks,  and  his 
lips  moved  again  in  inaudible  murmurs.  Craterus  moist- 
ened his  mouth  with  a  draught  of  strong  Samian  wine, 
in  which  he  had  mixed  some  aromatic  spices  of  the 
East.  With  a  prolonged  sigh  at  length  the  boy  again 
opened  his  eyes,  and  a  faint  smile  played  round  his 
blanched  lips  as  he  murmured:  "Let  not  my  father 

4 


The   Boy   Basileus 

know,  but  carry  me  to  my  own  lodging  before  the  news 
be  abroad." 

Slowly  the  wine  and  drugs  that  Craterus  admin- 
istered in  measured  sips  began  to  tell  on  the  splendid 
constitution  of  the  athletic  youth  who  was  in  the 
highest  training  of  body.  He  held  low  converse  with 
his  two  chief  attendants  while  Craterus,  his  daughter, 
and  her  women  withdrew  to  the  end  of  the  chamber. 
"Where  am  I?  Who  are  these?  Whither  are  you 
bearing  me?"  he  asked,  in  a  faint  whisper;  and,  turn- 
ing his  head,  he  perceived  the  master  of  the  house 
and  the  women  behind  him.  Then  the  young  sufferer's 
eye  caught  sight  of  the  veiled  girl,  whose  close  dra- 
peries seemed  but  to  increase  the  grace  of  her  figure. 
He  saw  her  lustrous  eyes  beaming  on  him,  as  he  lay, 
in  pity,  wonder,  and  admiration.  In  all  his  wander- 
ings after  beauty  he  had  never  in  his  life  beheld  such 
eyes.  The  fire,  the  passion,  the  profound  mysteries 
they  betrayed  shot  down  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones, 
and  he  sank  back  amazed  and  thrilled,  exhausted  with 
the  spasm  of  enjoyment  it  had  caused  him.  "Let  me 
thank  her  who  has  dragged  me  from  the  jaws  of  death," 
he  murmured ;  and  with  a  feeble  sign  of  his  outstretched 
finger,  as  if  he  had  been  summoning  a  slave,  he  beckoned 
to  the  girl  to  approach. 

He  took  her  fingers  in  both  of  his  own  weak,  cold 
hands ;  and,  looking  into  her  eyes  with  rapture,  he  said : 
"Who  art  thou  that  hast  saved  me?  Is  it  some  angel 
that  follows  Our  Lady  in  heaven  above,  or,  rather,  I 
think,  an  oread  from  the  train  of  our  huntress  Artemis. 
Complete  my  cure,  and  restore  me  to  manhood  by  bend- 
ing down  and  kissing  me,  as  our  poets  say  Artemis  on 
Latmos  would  kiss  her  Endymion."     And  he  drew  her 

5 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

down  till  her  lips  touched  his;  and  before  she  could 
speak  he  had  slipped  a  ring  into  her  hand,  whispering: 
"Yes,  we  shall  meet  again!" 

Craterus,  who  had  but  imperfectly  noticed  this  scene, 
now  advanced  to  his  daughter,  saying:  "  Anastasia,  my 
child,  withdraw  now  to  your  chamber  with  your  nurse; 
you  may  safely  leave  the  wounded  youth  to  us,  and 
we  will  send  for  you  if  need  arise  again."  In  fact,  the 
potions  of  Craterus  and  the  bandages  of  his  daughter 
were  now  doing  so  much  to  restore  the  strength  of  the 
young  patient  that  his  companions  agreed  with  the 
old  man  that  all  immediate  danger  to  life  was  passed 
and  that  he  might  safely  be  transported  home  by 
water.  The  patient  himself  insisted  —  and  that  in  a 
tone  of  imperious  command — that  he  should  be  forth- 
with carried  to  his  barge  and  conveyed  across  the 
Bosphorus  to  Constantinople  before  the  city  was  astir 
or  rumors  of  his  accident  were  bruited  abroad.  With 
great  care  and  adroitness  the  bandages  were  again 
tightened  over  his  thigh;  he  was  supplied  with  fresh 
restoratives  and  draughts  of  wine,  and  carried  to  the 
shore  in  the  litter  constructed  out  of  the  hunting  net 
and  poles. 

As  the  party  descended  the  hill-side,  it  was  closely 
watched  by  inquiring  eyes  from  the  house  into  which 
it  had  entered  so  suddenly  and  with  so  much  mystery. 
Neither  Craterus  nor  any  of  his  people  had  been  able 
to  learn  the  name  or  rank  of  the  young  huntsman, not- 
withstanding all  their  inquiries  and  the  most  curious 
search.  All  they  knew  was  that  some  young  sports- 
man from  Constantinople  had  arrived  in  a  barge  the 
evening  before,  and  had  spent  the  night  in  the  moun- 
tain forest  in  pursuit  of  wild  boar.     Just  before  dawn 

6 


The   Boy   Basileus 

the  pony  of  one  of  the  hunters  had  fallen  in  a  hole  and 
thrown  its  rider,  who  had  been  deeply  gashed  by  the 
boar,  even  in  the  act  of  spearing  the  brute  to  death. 
Neither  names  nor  particulars  of  the  party  could  be 
obtained,  but  suitable  rewards  had  been  left  for  the 
help  and  accommodation  afforded  them. 

Breathless,  behind  the  wooden  lattice-work  that 
formed  the  blind  of  her  chamber,  Anastasia  watched 
the  litter  as  it  was  borne  down  the  path,  and  she 
fancied  that  she  caught  sight  of  a  kiss  wafted  towards 
her  window  when  the  fingers  of  the  helpless  youth 
were  faintly  raised  to  his  lips.  From  his  own  door- 
step, also,  Craterus  saw  the  cavalcade  disappear;  and, 
as  his  foxlike  eyes  watched  every  detail  of  their  dress 
and  trappings,  he  shook  his  head  and  murmured  that 
"It  might  bring  him  good,  but  it  was  wiser  to  keep 
silence  and  be  careful  what  he  did."  As  he  slowly 
withdrew  to  an  inner  room  he  found  his  daughter 
waiting  for  him  with  eager  looks,  and  ready  to  ply 
him  with  questions  and  suggestions.  "Who  was  the 
wounded  youth? — what  did  her  father  think  he  could 
be? — how  came  they  to  bring  him  to  his  house? — 
what  did  they  say  when  they  left?"  These,  and  such 
questionings,  the  girl  poured  upon  her  father,  who 
showed  little  inclination  to  answer  her  inquiries,  even 
if  he  had  known  more  than  he  did. 

"Nay,  my  child,  I  have  no  means  of  satisfying  your 
curiosity.  They  somewhat  peremptorily  declined  to 
give  me  any  kind  of  information,  bidding  our  servants 
keep  silence  as  to  their  visit,  on  pain  of  some  harm  to 
them  if  they  pressed  their  inquiries.  They  told  me 
that  the  youth  was  a  gallant  of  the  city,  whose  accident 
was  not  to  be  made  known,  lest  it  should  alarm  his 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

parents,  and  they  might  prevent  his  following  such 
dangerous  sports." 

"And  why,  my  dear  father,  may  I  ask,  why  were 
you  in  such  haste  to  bid  me  leave  the  chamber,  even 
while  the  fair  youth  was  still  in  need  of  our  skill  and 
comfort?  We  would  gladly  do  our  best  for  so  gentle 
and  comely  a  patient." 

"  Gentle  and  comely  enough,  my  child,  I  do  not  deny, 
but  you  must  try  to  forget  him  and  his  accident,  for 
certain  it  is  that  you  will  never  see  him  again,  nor 
know  his  name  or  his  rank." 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  she  murmured  softly  to 
herself,  as  she  fingered  the  precious  ring  which  her 
father  had  failed  to  see  given  when  she  had  stooped 
over  the  youth  on  his  couch. 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  old  man  had  noticed  an  expres- 
sion on  his  daughter's  face,  and  he  rejoined,  in  an  im- 
pressive tone,  "Anastasia,  my  only  child  and  dearest 
hope,  I  charge  you  to  remember  what  we  are  now, 
and  whence  we  came.  This  youth,  for  all  his  gentle- 
ness of  speech,  is  proud  and  wild.  He  is  evidently 
some  slip  of  a  wealthy,  perhaps  of  a  noble,  family,  and 
since  he  conceals  his  name  and  rank  there  is  a  mystery, 
if  not  a  mischief,  in  his  life.  Be  he  what  he  may,  he  is 
wholly  beyond  our  sphere.  We  shall  never  fall  again 
in  his  way,  and  he  would  treat  us  with  contempt  if 
we  did." 

"Father,"  said  the  girl,  proudly,  her  luminous  eyes 
aglow  with  light,  "have  you  not  often  told  me  of  the 
race  we  spring  from,  and  of  the  blood  of  heroes  that  I 
inherit  from  my  sainted  mother?" 

"True  is  it,  Anastasia,  O  thou  glorified  image  of 
my  dear  departed  wife;  thou  hast,  indeed,  the  blood 

S 


The   Boy   Basileus 

of  kings  of  Lacedasmon  in  thy  veins,  as  thou  renewest 
the  beauty  of  the  goddesses  of  Greece.  Fallen  as  I 
am  now  in  estate,  despoiled  of  my  patrimony  by  the 
corsairs  of  Saracens  from  Africa,  I  cannot  forget  that 
I  was  born  of  noble  race  and  am  the  equal  of  those 
minions  there  across  the  strait.  In  wedding  your 
mother  I  rose  to  a  height  above  them.  She  came 
from  Lacedaemon,  and  could  trace  descent  from  the 
ancient  kings  of  Sparta,  who,  crushed,  plundered,  and 
slain,  as  they  have  been  for  a  thousand  years  by  Ro- 
mans, by  Goths,  by  Armenians,  Slavonians,  and  Isau- 
rians,  have  maintained  the  purity  of  their  blood.  Cher- 
ish it  in  thy  memory,  my  child,  that  my  Anastasia 
comes  of  the  royal  stock  which  produced  such  heroes 
as  Lycurgus,  Leonidas,  Agesilaos,  and  Lysander.  When 
I  laid  thy  mother  to  rest  in  the  last  remnant  of  her 
paternal  estate  by  the  banks  of  Eurotas,  I  swore  by 
the  Mother  of  God  that  I  would  keep  her  daughter 
worthy  of  her  and  worthy  of  the  heroes  from  whom 
both  were  sprung.  Have  I  not  done  so,  my  child — 
have  I  not  taught  thee  to  hold  thyself  higher  than 
these  barbarians  of  Thrace  and  Anatolia?  Nay,  have 
I  not  taught  thee  to  distrust  the  whining  of  their 
dirty  priests  and  crazy  hermits,  and  to  cherish  the 
purer  fancies  of  our  older  faith,  the  inspiration  of 
Apollo,  the  insight  of  Athene,  the  grace  of  Aphrodite? 
Thou  knowest  also  the  inner  meaning  of  these  primeval 
creeds,  as  expounded  in  the  mysteries  of  Mithras  and 
the  Phrygian  Mother." 

"Would  that  thou  hadst  sworn  by  the  Pallas  of  the 
Parthenon,"  his  daughter  broke  in,  "rather  than  by 
these  idols  worshipped  by  the  mobs  in  the  city.  But 
am  I  not  worthy  then  to  mate  with  the  son  of  the 

9 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Autocrator  himself,  if  Athene  were  to  turn  his  eyes 
upon  me  so  that  he  desired  me  for  his  wife?" 

"His  wife? — silly  child,  put  away  such  absurd  and 
unwholesome  dreams.  The  Basileus,  or  the  least  min- 
ion of  his  court,  would  no  more  think  of  taking  thee  to 
wife  than  he  would  take  the  meanest  scullion  in  his 
kitchen.  No,  girl,  he  would  take  thee  for  his  play- 
thing for  a  day,  for  a  week  or  two,  till  he  flung  thee  to 
some  parasite  of  his  own  like  a  cast-off  shoe.  Wife! 
wife!"  shrieked  the  old  man — "say  rather  toy,  lap-dog, 
slave — not  wife!  Shall  the  daughter  of  Craterus  the 
Spartan,  the  descendant  of  a  hundred  kings,  born  of  a 
mother  compared  to  whom  the  blood  of  these  Augusti, 
children  of  Basil  the  stable-boy,  is  ditch-water — shall 
she  enter  the  harem  of  these  vicious  mongrels  who 
cringe  round  the  Sacred  Palace?  Never!  my  child,  I 
would  rather  see  thee  dead.  Thou  art  above  them  in 
godlike  race  as  thou  art  in  godlike  beauty,  thou  child 
of  Helen  of  Troy,  more  like  to  her  than  ever  yet  has 
been  any  of  her  children  since.  This  lad,  whoever  he 
be,  though  not  fit  to  be  thy  slave,  is  far  above  thee  in 
legal  rank,  as  he  certainly  is  above  thee  in  fortune. 
Think  of  him  no  more.  Thou  wilt  never  see  him  again. 
And  if  thou  didst,  it  would  be  to  thy  ruin." 

Anastasia  was  not  wont  to  discuss  matters  with  her 
father  when  he  had  mounted  his  high  horse  about  the 
kings  of  Sparta  and  the  illustrious  ancestry  of  her 
mother,  whom  she  had  almost  forgotten.  Still  less  did 
she  take  very  seriously  all  his  extraordinary  ravings 
about  the  mysteries  of  Mithras  and  the  eternal  cult  of 
Isis,  which  the  old  man  had  mixed  up  in  a  strange 
medley  of  occult  superstitions.  With  her  keen  intellect 
and  her  aspiring  temper,  Anastasia  had  been  nurtured 


The   Boy   Basileus 

by  her  father  from  childhood  in  proud  disdain  of  the 
mongrel  races  of  the  capital  which  had  now  become  a 
veritable  colluvies  gentium,  as,  indeed,  from  that  day 
to  this  it  has  remained.  From  infancy  she  had  been 
taught  to  look  coldly  on  the  endless  ceremonies  and 
miraculous  paraphernalia  of  the  Byzantine  Church, 
though  her  practical  mind  had  inclined  her  to  but 
little  interest  in  the  esoteric  mysteries  of  Mithraism 
in  which  Craterus  would  dream  away  whole  days.  She 
regarded  these  dreams  as  the  unhallowed  maunder- 
ings  of  a  morbid  mind.  And  while  she  outwardly 
conformed  to  the  ceremonial  cult  of  the  Christians 
around  her,  her  maiden  day-dreams  would  ever  turn 
back  to  the  immortal  creations  of  Hellenic  poetry  and 
myth.  She  would  conjure  up  to  herself  visions  of  a 
Helen  of  Troy,  a  Clytemnestra,  a  Medea,  even  an 
Aspasia,  and  a  Thais;  she  knew  the  thrilling  story  of 
Byzantine  palace  history;  how  Athenais,  the  daughter 
of  a  philosopher  of  Athens,  had  blossomed  out  into 
Eudocia,  the  Empress ;  how  Theodora  had  stepped  from 
the  dancing  -  stage  to  the  throne  of  the  world ;  how 
Irene  had  divided  the  Roman  realm  even  with  the 
mighty  Charles  himself. 

Long  after  she  had  quitted  her  father,  Anastasia  sat 
musing  in  her  own  chamber,  from  time  to  time  scrutin- 
izing the  ring  which  the  wounded  youth  had  given  her, 
and  which  she  had  hastily  concealed  in  her  bosom.  Again 
and  again  she  turned  the  jewel  to  the  light,  and  ex- 
amined it  on  every  side.  Could  it  be,  indeed,  an  em- 
erald— a  real  emerald — of  such  a  size  and  such  lustre? 
If  it  were,  indeed,  a  veritable  stone,  it  was  worth  a  king's 
ransom.  Could  the  stranger  lad  have  so  magnificent 
a  ring  in  his  possession,  and  would  he  lightly  hand  it 

1 1 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

to  an  unknown  girl?  And  yet — could  a  youth,  evi- 
dently so  noble,  so  wealthy,  bear  about  on  his  finger 
a  thing  of  paste?  Anastasia  knew  something  of 
jewels,  antique  enamels,  and  sardonyx  cameos,  as  of 
reliquaries,  crosses,  and  miraculous  ikons,  for  her 
father  was  supposed  to  procure  such  things  from  time 
to  time  from  correspondents  he  had  in  Asia  Minor  and 
to  dispose  of  them  successfully  to  the  travellers  who 
would  come  to  his  place  on  their  way  to  the  capital 
from  the  East.  And  Anastasia  had  half  suspected  that 
the  old  Corinthian  attendant  who  had  charge  of  her 
father's  curios  had  done  something  more  than  always 
repair  or  reset  the  pieces  on  which  she  saw  him  secretly 
engaged. 

And  while  she  turned  the  jewel  round  and  round, 
she  fancied  she  could  read  some  letters  engraved, 
but  her  untrained  eye,  for  all  her  curiosity,  was  not 
able  to  put  the  words  together.  She  called  her  nurse, 
the  aged  woman  who  had  been  about  her  since  her 
mother's  death,  and  in  whose  fidelity  she  was  sure  she 
could  confide.  "Charmion,"  she  said,  "dear  old  girl,, 
here  is  an  adventure.  As  I  was  turning  over  the  old 
jewel-case  of  my  sainted  mother  in  heaven  I  found  this 
ring  which  had  been  strangely  overlooked  by  my  father 
for  years.  Take  it  to  Leontius  in  his  workshop,  and 
ask  him  to  tell  us  what  it  is,  and  if  he  can  read  these 
words  that  are  engraved  around  the  setting.  But  be 
sure  you  charge  him,  as  he  values  my  favor,  to  breathe 
not  a  word  of  it  to  man  or  woman — least  of  all  my 
father.  It  would  break  his  heart  to  think  that  he  had 
neglected  so  dear  a  relic  of  my  mother — and  thou 
knowest  that  all  she  had  of  jewels  are  mine." 

The  crone  eyed  the  ring  with  keenness,  and  her  eyes 

12 


The   Boy   Basileus 

then  fell  on  her  lovely  mistress,  who  bore  her  scrutiny 
with  a  tranquil  smile.  She  hurried  off  to  Leontius, 
who  was  preparing  to  "reset"  an  encolpion  that  was 
destined  for  a  great  ecclesiastic.  The  old  engraver 
took  the  ring  and  examined  it  with  attention  and  no 
small  wonder.  Then  he  scrutinized  it  through  a  crystal 
lens,  and  tried  it  against  some  pieces  that  he  had  in  a 
case  by  his  side.  He  looked  hard  at  the  nurse,  and 
she  looked  at  him.  Neither  spoke.  "  Nurse,"  he  said, 
at  last,  "the  ring  is  one  of  the  finest  and  largest  emer- 
alds I  ever  beheld,  and  it  is  set  in  a  rare  enamel  of 
exquisite  work.  Yes,  words  have  been  engraved  with- 
in the  margin,  and  I  will  write  them  on  this  slip  of 
parchment."  He  took  his  style,  and,  peering  closely 
with  his  crystal  lens  to  the  minute  letters  in  the  ring, 
he  wrote,  Kipu  ftorjdel'Pej/jLavu.  "No!"  said  he,  "the 
last  letters  must  be  somewhat  defaced.  It  must  be 
'Pwpaioig — Lord!  Help  the  Romans!  It  could  hard- 
ly be  Roman!  Could  it  be?"  said  the  old  artist  in 
cameos,  talking  to  himself. 

Old  Charmion  hurried  back  to  Anastasia,  too  eager 
that  she  might  report  her  news  and  ply  her  young 
mistress  with  questions  to  notice  the  intense  agitation 
of  mind  that  Anastasia  concealed  under  her  outward 
ease.  "How  came  she  to  find  it?"  asked  the  crone 
again  and  again.  "  How  was  it  overlooked  ?  How  had 
her  mother  obtained  it?  What  would  she  do  with  it?" 
and  a  thousand  similar  questions,  which  Anastasia  put 
off  with  affected  indifference  and  studious  silence.  Nor 
could  the  girl  rid  herself  of  the  nurse's  importunate 
curiosity  until  she  had  peremptorily  insisted  on  the 
attendant  leaving  her  alone  in  order  to  prepare  her 
bath  in  another  chamber. 

13 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Left  alone,  Anastasia  sprang  up  in  a  whirlwind  of 
emotion,  pacing  the  room,  and  flinging  up  aloft  her 
shapely  arms  in  the  attitude  of  a  priestess  at  the  shrine 
of  the  Delphic  Apollo.  "Mother  of  God!  Daughter 
of  Zeus!  Queen  of  Love!  Where  am  I?  What  is 
this?  What  will  come  of  it?  An  emerald  of  priceless 
worth!  Why,  who  could  wear  such  a  thing  but  one 
from  the  Palace  of  Caesar — wear  it — nay,  wear  it  in  a 
forest  chase,  in  a  wild  night  on  the  mountain  ?  '  Lord ! 
Help  the  Romans !' — who  could  bear  about  such  a  mean- 
ingless prayer?  'Help  the  Romans!'  Yes,  the  priests 
and  monks  whine  out  these  litanies  in  their  daily  can- 
ticles. But  does  a  youth  who  looks  like  a  young  prince 
engrave  on  his  seal  so  stupid  a  motto?  Prince!  ah, 
what  am  I  saying?  Why,  what  other  prince  is  there 
but  Romanus,  son  of  our  purple-born  Constantine, 
Basileus  of  the  Romans?  Queen  of  Paphos,  and  of  the 
world!  He  ivas  Romanus — the  young  Basileus  himself 
— lovely  as  Adonis— and  he  loves  me — he  shall  love 
me.  Augustus  that  is  to  be — and  why  should  not  I, 
too,  be  Augusta,  by  divine  right — of  beauty?"  And 
the  girl  flung  herself  down  on  a  couch  and  buried  her 
face  in  her  hands,  as  if  she  needed  to  shut  out  from 
her  eyes  the  excess  of  light  which  beamed  down  on 
her,  even  as  Zeus  descended  upon  Semele  in  a  shower 
of  burning  gold. 


II 

The  Warden  of  the  Eastern   March 

WHILE  this  was  passing,  the  party  which  was 
bearing  the  wounded  young  Basileus  moved  on 
with  haste  and  care  to  the  shore  of  the  Bosphorus, 
where  the  barge  was  moored.  The  two  leading  horse- 
men pressed  on  a  little  in  advance  to  secure  the  em- 
barkation with  speed.  The  foremost  was  a  man  not 
yet  of  middle  life,  the  very  model  of  chivalrous  strength, 
audacity,  and  animation.  He  was  dark  of  hue,  even 
for  an  Eastern  Roman,  with  fiery  black  eyes,  and  raven 
hair,  chiselled  features,  and  an  aquiline  nose,  and  a 
complexion  of  clear  and  delicate  olive,  just  tinted  with 
color.  He  wore  a  hunting -suit,  and  bore  a  short 
weapon  of  exquisite  form  and  mounting  chased  in  gold, 
of  Persian  design.  His  whole  bearing  was  that  of  a 
leader  of  men,  the  ideal  of  a  cavalry  commander,  or 
of  some  knight-errant  bent  on  romantic  adventures, 
such  as  those  heroes  we  now  read  of  in  the  Arabian 
Nights.  His  companion,  an  older  and  graver  man, 
who  treated  him  as  of  higher  rank  than  himself,  now 
rode  up  to  the  leader,  and  in  low  tones  seemed  press- 
ing on  him  some  urgent  counsels.  "My  Lord  Basil 
Digenes,  the  accident  of  to-day  may  be  of  deep  mo- 
ment to  the  whole  Roman  Empire.  If  the  bandages 
of  the  old  Greek  and  his  daughter  should  fail  to  hold, 

r5 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

our  young  charge  may  yet  slip  through  our  fingers 
before  we  can  reach  the  palace.  What  would  be  our 
fate  if  we  brought  home  to  our  king  of  kings  his  only 
son  a  corpse?" 

"Nay,  Theodore,  my  good  man,  we  shall  save  the 
boy;  the  Augustus  himself  is  too  just  and  reasonable 
a  king  to  suppose  that  you  and  I  would  neglect  his 
heir.  He  knows  that  we  would  risk  our  lives  rather 
than  a  hair  of  his  head  should  be  harmed." 

"His  Majesty  Born-in-the-Purple  is,  indeed,  a  most 
upright  judge,  and  as  kind  a  master  as  Rome  ever  saw. 
But  are  you  sure  that  the  feeble  empress  might  not 
be  worked  on  by  women  and  eunuchs,  and  our  rivals 
seek  to  strike  us  down  in  a  palace  plot?" 

"What  care  I  for  rivals!"  cried  Basil,  with  a  smile 
of  triumph.  "I  fear  no  man,  and  no  man  of  all 
Rome  fears  me.  From  Caesar  to  handmaiden  they 
love  me  and  know  me  to  be  their  friend  and  pro- 
tector." 

"True,  indeed!  most  noble  akritas,  and  therein  lies 
a  matter  that  is  worth  thy  thought.  Hast  thou  not 
noticed  how  our  most  illustrious  sovereign  lord,  after 
forty-four  years  of  the  burden  of  state,  has  begun  to 
weary  on  his  throne?  He  may — well! — he  may  ab- 
dicate," he  whispered  in  the  ear  of  Basil,  "in  favor  of 
his  heir.  Our  young  Basileus  has  entered  on  his 
eighteenth  year,  but  he  may  not  survive  his  father. 
My  Lord  Basil,  you  know  his  way  of  life  as  well  as  I  do. 
He  will  never  live  to  see  his  father's  years.  He  may 
die  of  this  very  wound  —  may  the  saints  save  him, 
and  us,  too! — he  may  die  this  very  day — he  may  meet 
such  another  chance  ere  the  year  is  out.  What  then? 
Where  will  the  throne  of  Rome  be  then,  most  illustrious 

16 


The  Warden  of  the  Eastern   March 

commander  and  victorious  warden  of  the  marches? 
What  will  happen  then?" 

"Most  sapient  chamberlain,"  said  Basil,  "his  Sacred 
Majesty  will  name  a  worthy  successor,  and  honor  him 
with  the  hand  of  one  of  the  five  princesses,  his  daugh- 
ters. And  if  the  Basileus  were  to  die  without  such 
nomination,  the  Senate  and  army  chiefs  would  find 
such  an  emperor  themselves  as  they  have  so  often 
done  of  old." 

"And  where  would  they  find  such  a  chief?"  mur- 
mured the  chamberlain,  in  the  insinuating  voice  of  the 
courtier;  "where  but  in  the  person  of  the  most  valiant 
hero,  lord  warden  of  the  eastern  frontier,  victorious 
in  a  hundred  fights,  the  Achilles  of  our  warlike  odes — 
Basil,  of  royal  name  and  royal  race,  offspring  of  a 
Roman  princess  and  a  Syrian  emir,  who  had  come  to 
Christ.  Basil  Digenes,  I  tell  thee,  potent  akritas  and 
chief,  should  the  throne  of  Rome  become  vacant  we 
should  all  look  to  thee  to  mount  and  hold  it!" 

"Retro!  Satanas!"  cried  out  the  akritas  (i.e.,  the 
warden  of  the  marches),  with  a  gay  gesture  of  scorn; 
"tempt  not  the  most  loyal  servant  of  our  most  High 
Sovereign  Lord!  If  his  son  were  not  to  reign,  I  tell 
thee  again,  it  would  have  to  be  some  ennobled  husband 
of  one  of  his  Majesty's  daughters." 

"  And  who  would  that  be,"  said  the  wily  chamberlain, 
"save  that  chief  on  whom  the  loveliest  of  them  all, 
the  gentle  Agatha,  her  father's  favorite,  casts  such 
looks  of  tenderness?  Why,  the  Sacred  Palace  rings 
with  gossip  of  her  sighs  and  blushes  when  the  harpers 
sing  the  deeds  of  'The  Flower  of  Our  Roman  Chivalry,' 
as  the  poets  name  the  warden  of  the  eastern  march!" 

"A  truce  to  thy  jests,  my  lord  of  the  chamber,  and 

OF  1 

UNIVERSITY 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

profane  riot  with  thy  court  scandal  the  name  of  the 
sweetest,  purest,  most  modest  virgin  in  your  city  of 
sin  and  folly.  Things  are  too  serious  for  idle  jest- 
ing, and  the  fate  of  Rome  and  our  Holy  Church  is  even 
now  hanging  in  the  scales  of  the  angel  of  judgment. 
A  man  who  has  lived  as  I  have  since  boyhood,  in  the 
saddle  and  on  the  borders,  knows  what  are  the  perils 
and  the  trials  which  are  gathering  round  the  empire 
from  the  east  and  from  the  north." 

"Oh,  forbear  such  ominous  words,  most  noble  lord 
warden!"  cried  the  chamberlain,  crossing  himself  more 
from  habit  than  from  superstition;  "was  Rome  ever  so 
great  and  glorious  as  she  is  to-day?  Behold  in  the 
morning  light  the  splendor  of  our  Eternal  City — we  can 
see  afar  across  the  straits  the  gilded  dome  of  the  Holy 
Wisdom  and  of  a  hundred  fanes.  Was  any  autocrator 
more  truly  worshipped  and  more  worthy  of  our  worship 
than  our  Most  Majestic  Sovereign  Born-in-the-Purple? 
What  invincible  armies  does  he  send  forth?  What 
fleets  and  merchandise  crowd  the  Golden  Horn?  What 
multitudes  from  all  parts  of  this  earth  swarm  in  the 
streets  of  our  matchless  capital?  What  a  galaxy  of 
treasure,  pomp,  and  beauty  amazes  all  who  are  ad- 
mitted to  the  Sacred  Palace  of  our  king?" 

"Vanity  of  vanities!"  groaned  the  great  soldier, 
more  to  himself  than  to  the  chamberlain;  "it  is  thus 
that  courtiers  beguile  our  Sacred  Majesty  by  idle 
vaunts.  We  who  in  the  distant  marches  have  to  bear 
the  brunt  of  the  enemy,  who  have  to  rule  those  prov- 
inces which  he  drains  to  the  bone  by  his  ravages — 
we  know  all  the  peril  that  encompasses  our  empire 
and  threatens  its  ruin.  Egypt,  Syria,  Sicily  have  been 
torn  from  it  by  victorious  Saracens  and  worshippers 

1 8 


The  Warden  of  the  Eastern   March 

of  the  Prophet.  Antioch,  Jerusalem,  Alexandria  have 
forsworn  Christ  and  Rome,  and  for  centuries  have 
submitted  to  Allah  and  the  Caliph.  On  the  Cilician 
frontier  we  hold  the  passes  by  daily  combats,  wherein 
to-day  we  find  our  match — it  may  be  to-morrow  our 
masters.  The  savage  corsairs,  who  have  seized  Crete 
and  Cyprus,  tear  to  pieces  the  seaboard  of  Asia  and 
of  Greece  at  their  own  sweet  will.  Italy  is  lost  to 
the  empire  forever,  and  these  Teutons  and  Latins  are 
boasting  already  that  the  empire  of  Rome  is  one, 
and  is  theirs,  not  ours.  Within  a  few  days'  march  of 
Constantinople  itself  there  is  a  Bulgarian  kingdom 
which  may  pour  on  us  again  in  an  avalanche  at  any 
hour.  And  beyond  them  are  Slavs,  Russ,  Petzinacs, 
Chazars,  and  Turks,  and  many  a  barbarous  horde  be- 
yond. I  tell  thee,  chamberlain,  as  I  have  come  hither 
to  tell  our  sovereign  Augustus  and  his  council,  that  the 
empire  can  be  saved  no  longer  but  by  great  and  thor- 
oughly equipped  armies  of  stalwart  Romans,  not  of 
hired  barbarians — but  above  all  can  be  saved  only  by  a 
mighty  soldier,  by  a  great  general,  by  a  hero  whom 
his  men  will  follow  to  the  death." 

"And  where  shall  his  Majesty  and  his  valiant  soldiers 
find  such  a  man  but  in  the  victor  of  a  hundred  fights, 
the  hero  of  a  thousand  war  -  songs,  the  glorious  lord 
warden  of  the  eastern  marches  —  our  commander-in- 
chief  that  must  be  —  our  sovereign  Augustus  that 
might  be — if  God  in  His  inscrutable  purposes  took  to 
Himself  our  Sublime  Majesty  and  his  adorable  son  and 
heir" — fawned  the  chamberlain  as  he  stole  nearer  to 
the  ear  of  the  akritas,  and  crossed  himself  again  and 
again  in  contemplation  of  the  twofold  imperial  obse- 
quies. 

i9 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"That  can  never  be,"  replied  Basil  Digenes,  with  an 
air  of  deep  conviction  and  thought;  "my  birth  has 
made  it  impossible,  inconceivable,  almost  a  sacrilege 
to  contemplate.  My  very  name  reminds  the  Romans 
that  I  am  but  half  a  Roman,  and  bear  in  my  blood  and 
skin  the  color  of  the  Prophet.  My  noble  father,  Mou- 
sur,  emir  of  Edessa  as  he  was,  born  a  Syed  of  the  sacred 
stock  of  Islam,  and  from  early  youth  a  hostage  at  the 
court  of  the  governor  of  Cappadocia,  the  illustrious 
Ducas,  forsook  his  people  and  his  faith  for  the  love  of 
my  mother.  Yes,  Eudocia  Ducas  was  as  noble  as  he, 
fair  and  good  enough  to  make  a  saint  forswear  heaven 
to  win  her.  My  father  made  me  a  soldier  of  Christ 
and  of  Rome,  and  such  I  will  live  and  die.  But  the 
blood  of  the  emirs  of  Edessa  stirs  in  my  veins  to-day, 
even  when  I  am  leading  the  charge  upon  their  ranks. 
And  I  have  seen  in  the  armies  of  the  Prophet  courage 
as  high  and  hearts  as  pure  as  any  who  worship  the 
cross.  Never  will  I  stoop  to  join  in  the  insults  that 
your  craven  mobs  in  the  city  delight  to  cast  at  the 
children  of  Hagar.  I  trust  in  Christ,  but  I  will  not 
revile  the  Prophet  or  his  servants.  And  now  tell  me, 
most  illustrious  and  most  politic  lord  of  the  purple 
chamber,  do  you  think  the  patriarch  and  his  priests 
and  acolytes  will  ever  consecrate  under  the  dome  of  the 
Holy  Wisdom  me,  Digenes — 'the  half-breed,'  the  son 
of  the  Saracen,  with  the  blood  of  the  Prophet  of  Mecca 
darkening  my  very  cheek?" — he  ground  out  these  words 
between  his  teeth — and  then  he  added  with  the  ring- 
ing voice  that  was  natural  to  him:  "No!  my  Lord 
Theodore,  tempt  me  not  with  these  palace  intrigues. 
I  am  proud  to  serve  our  Basileus  as  the  warden  of  the 
marches.     I  will  fight — I  will  sweat  and  die  for  Rome 


The  Warden  of  the  Eastern   March 

and  for  Christ.  But  I  am  not  of  the  mould  in  which 
your  cubicular  conspirators  are  cast." 

"Oh,  dream  not  that  I  am  capable  of  hinting  at  such 
treason,  my  Lord  Basil!  I  sought  counsel  only  in  the 
lamentable  yet  conceivable  chance  that  might  befall 
this  empire  and  our  sacred  and  imperial  stock.  On 
whom,  then,  would  your  Eminence  propose  that  we 
should  turn  our  hopes,  if  God  in  heaven  were  indeed 
to  afflict  us  so  sorely?" 

"How  can  you  ask?"  shouted  the  lord  warden, 
almost  bounding  from  his  saddle;  "there  is  but  one, 
and  he  fills  every  mouth  with  his  glory.  There  is  but 
one  man  who  can  save  Rome,  but  one  man  whom  every 
Roman  warrior  will  follow,  as  if  he  were  St.  Michael, 
with  the  sword  of  heaven  in  his  hand.  Whom  could 
I  mean  but  Nicephorus,  the  commander-in-chief  of 
the  forces  of  Asia,  the  greatest  hero  of  the  heroic  race 
of  Phocas,  son,  grandson,  brother,  and  kinsman  of 
the  most  valiant  commanders  whom  Rome  has  ever 
known.  Ah!  had  you  ever  seen  our  glorious  Niceph- 
orus at  the  head  of  his  army;  had  you  ever  heard 
the  roar  of  his  men  as  his  eagle  eye  swept  along  their 
ranks;  had  you  ever  watched  him  as  I  have,  chamber- 
lain, in  the  storm  of  a  bloody  fight,  firm  as  a  rock, 
alert  as  a  young  lion,  keen  as  a  hawk,  and  sub- 
lime master  of  the  whole  battle  array — had  you  ever 
seen  him  in  the  hour  of  victory,  directing  all  men 
to  his  will,  like  Homer's  Zeus  presiding  over  the 
shock  of  earthly  men  below  —  you  would  not  ask, 
most  eminent  lord  of  the  sacred  chamber,  who  was 
the  destined  savior  of  Rome  —  under  God  and  His 
mother,  be  it  said — who  is  our  born  chief!  Why, 
man  alive — Nicephorus    Phocas — whom  to  follow  is 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

to  be  blessed — whom  to  know  is  to  honor  and  to 
serve." 

The  supple  chamberlain  was  well  aware  of  the  en- 
thusiasm for  the  Armenian  chief,  in  which  all  the  fight- 
ing men  of  the  empire  were  agreed ;  and  he  knew  how 
deeply  the  autocrator  himself  valued — if  he  also  feared 
— the  genius  of  his  great  captain.  But  he  also  knew 
how  sorely  the  palace  held  Nicephorus  in  dread.  They 
knew  him  to  be  stern,  just,  of  unimpeachable  honor, 
of  almost  fanatical  piety,  and  of  a  loyalty  that  neither 
flattery  nor  prize  could  seduce.  This  terrible  soldier, 
with  his  inexorable  justice  and  his  inevitable  insight, 
would  be  a  grievous  burden  to  the  palace,  and  to  the 
silken  minions  who  thronged  its  halls.  The  ingenious 
Theodore  accordingly  made  haste  to  drop  the  subject 
and  efface  from  the  mind  of  the  gallant  warden  the 
impression  he  had  sought  to  instil  into  it.  And  as 
they  had  now  reached  the  shore,  the  whole  attention 
of  the  party  was  occupied  in  placing  the  young  Caesar 
in  safety  and  in  comfort  on  his  luxurious  barge. 

The  task  was  rapidly  and  skilfully  accomplished 
under  the  masterly  care  of  the  lord  warden,  and  soon 
the  imperial  barge  was  being  swiftly  oared  across  the 
two  or  three  miles  of  sea  which  divided  the  palace 
from  the  Asian  shore.  The  young  Basileus  lay  peace- 
fully on  purple  cushions  beneath  a  rich  awning  of  silk, 
tended  by  his  body -servant,  who  from  time  to  time 
moistened  his  lips  with  sorbets  and  cordials,  while 
the  keen  glances  of  Basil  watched  over  his  charge  as 
he  directed  the  course  of  the  boat.  Both  he  and  the 
chamberlain  seemed  lost  in  thought,  though  the  nature 
of  their  meditations  was  somewhat  unlike. 

The  sun  had  now  risen  in  a  dazzling  May  morning, 

22 


The   Warden  of  the  Eastern   March 

and  was  bathing  in  its  light  that  most  glorious  of  all 
earth's  landscapes.  As  they  rounded  the  headland  of 
Keras,  that  we  now  call  Seraglio  Point,  the  barge  was 
in  the  centre  of  that  scene  which  the  ancient  and  the 
modern  world  has  agreed  to  be  the  most  imposing  and 
most  beautiful  that  Europe  and  Asia  can  show.  The 
profusion  of  form  and  color  is,  indeed,  quite  dazzling 
to  those  to  whom  it  is  unfamiliar.  Bays,  gulfs,  creeks, 
and  seas  were  stretched  in  endless  vistas  on  every  side, 
the  gentle  rippling  of  those  azure  waters  glancing  with 
joy  in  the  morning  sun.  Out  of  the  waters,  from  point 
to  point  there  rose  terraces,  gardens,  towers,  palaces, 
and  churches,  radiant  in  marble  and  gold,  thickly 
strewn  with  groves  of  beech,  acacia,  arbutus,  and 
cypress,  dotted  about  with  fruit  trees,  now  in  their 
snowy  blossom.  Northward  the  grand  "river"  of  the 
Bosphorus  swept  slowly  down  in  the  majestic  tide  of 
its  blue  stream,  stately  cliffs  and  wooded  crags  rising 
on  either  side  of  the  strait,  and  these  were  clothed  with 
countless  towers,  villas,  monasteries,  and  temples. 

On  their  right  the  Golden  Horn  ran  up  far  into  the 
land.  This  branch  of  the  sea  was  crowded  with  every 
kind  of  floating  ship — dromons,  or  warships  of  the 
state,  with  their  brazen  beaks,  banks  of  long  oars,  and 
high  masts  fitted  to  hurl  the  shells  of  Greek  fire — the 
bright  -  sailed  merchant  vessels  from  west  and  east : 
from  Amalphi,  Venice,  Durrachium,  Bari,  Naupactus, 
Cherson,  the  ^Egean,  the  Propontis,  Smyrna,  and 
Rhodes.  Thousands  of  busy  craft  were  moored  in  the 
great  harbor,  while  light  caiques  and  skiffs  scudded 
across  the  narrow  seas.  In  front  of  the  returning 
barge  rose  the  tremendous  ramparts,  towers,  and  gates 
of  new  Rome,  encircling  the  vast  city  with  that  massive 
3  23 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

range  of  fortifications  which  for  eight  centuries  flung 
back  the  most  valiant  assailants,  whether  from  the 
north  or  from  the  east — those  fortifications  of  which 
the  pathetic  ruins  and  remnants  to-day  are  the  most 
majestic  memorial  of  its  forces  which  the  ancient  world 
has  left  to  us. 

And  behind  those  miles  and  miles  of  wall,  battlement, 
tower,  and  gate  the  Seven  Hills  of  New  Rome  rose  into 
the  morning  sky,  one  after  the  other,  in  picturesque 
confusion  of  terrace,  dome,  tower,  cloister,  and  palace, 
.all  bowered  in  groves  of  flowering  shrubs  and  avenues 
of  acacia  and  tall,  dark  cypress.  And  all  around  this 
vast  and  variegated  pile — this,  the  central  city  of  the 
world,  as  all  who  saw  it  felt  it  to  be,  whether  they 
were  Latin  or  Greek,  Russ  or  African,  Christian  or 
Moslem,  philosopher  or  barbarian — there  mounted  up 
into  the  blue  welkin  countless  ranges  of  wooded  hills, 
crags,  headlands,  and  far-off  mountain  outlines,  softly 
folded  in  pencilled  lines  and  mists  of  white  haze.  South- 
ward the  eye  ranged  across  the  Propontis,  that  im- 
mense inland  lake  girt  with  smiling  bays,  inlets,  and 
cliffs,  with  the  nine  islands  we  now  call  the  "Princes' 
Isles,"  each  clothed  with  villas,  convents,  gardens,  and 
forests.  And  far  beyond,  across  the  sea  and  hill,  rose 
dazzling  white  in  the  morning  sun,  in  long,  broken 
ranges  of  snow,  that  glorious  Bithynian  Olympus  which 
ever  looks  down  over  the  imperial  city  like  the  heav- 
enly throne  of  its  guardian  God. 


Ill 

The   Betrothal 

IN  the  wooded  slopes  on  the  Asian  side  of  the  Bos- 
phorus  it  was  a  sultry  evening  of-  midsummer. 
The  sun  had  already  descended  behind  the  mountains 
of  Thrace,  in  a  deep  glow  which  was  reflected  in  the 
glassy  sea.  A  single  worshipper  was  prostrated  before 
the  chief  ikon  in  the  tiny  shrine  of  St.  Demetrius  that 
stood  in  the  forest  not  far  from  the  house  of  Cra- 
terus  the  Laconian.  The  humble  dome,  lit  only  by 
one  struggling  lamp  beneath  the  image,  was  dark  and 
silent.  The  eye  that  had  become  accustomed  to  the 
gloom  could  have  perceived  at  last  the  figure  of  a  girl 
at  her  devotions,  completely  enveloped  in  a  long,  dark 
cloak.  "Mother  of  God,  be  of  help  to  Anastasia,"  she 
murmured  again  and  again;  then  she  listened,  now 
she  waited  in  silence,  and  at  last  she  drew  furtively 
from  her  bosom  a  slip  of  writing  that  had  been  flung  at 
sunset  into  the  open  casement  of  her  chamber — "Be 
to-night  at  the  shrine  of  Demetrius." 

Yes,  at  last  a  light  step  was  heard;  and  though  she 
forbore  to  raise  her  eyes  from  the  altar  and  remained  in 
prostration  before  it,  the  worshipper's  eager  ear  per- 
ceived the  alert  pace  of  a  man  who  swiftly  came  up 
beside  her.  It  was  the  tall  and  graceful  youth  whose 
wound  she  had  tended,  now  restored  to  health,  in  all 

25 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  glow  of  his  young  beauty  and  the  graceful  assur- 
ance of  his  high  estate.  He  was  again  in  hunting  garb, 
but  round  his  neck  and  on  his  fingers  glittered  jewels 
which  even  to  the  rustic  eye  of  Anastasia  seemed 
worthy  of  a  king's  son ;  and  his  dagger  was  of  the  most 
exquisite  Damascene  work  mounted  with  precious 
stones  and  enamel.  He  raised  her  from  the  ground 
with  smiles  of  mingled  triumph  and  admiration,  as  if 
he  were  a  young  god  who  had  descended  to  toy  with 
an  earthly  lover.  "I  told  you,  my  nymph  of  the 
woodman's  hermitage,  that  we  should  meet  again. 
And  now  that  they  have  put  back  into  my  veins  all 
the  blood  that  I  lost  that  night,  I  come  to  present  my 
thanks  to  the  beautiful  nurse  to  whom  I  owe  my  life. 
Tell  me,  my  lovely  wood-nymph,  what  gift  would 
please  thee  most."  And,  without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  he  threw  his  powerful  arm  round  the  girl 
and  pressed  on  her  lips  a  passionate  kiss. 

Anastasia  flung  herself  out  of  his  arms  and  started 
back,  the  long,  dark  cloak  falling  from  her  shoulders 
to  the  ground.  She  stood  there  in  flowing  robes  of 
pure-white  gauze  that  clung  to  her  rounded  form  and 
made  her  look  like  the  Virgin  as  she  stood  abashed 
and  listened  to  the  angel  at  the  Annunciation.  Her 
bosom  heaved  with  emotion  and  indignation;  her 
cheek  was  pale  but  lovely  in  its  pallor,  her  eyes  glowed 
with  fire,  and  her  open  lips  seemed  to  tremble  with 
unspoken  words.  At  last  she  found  voice  to  speak: 
"Forbear,  rude  man,  to  insult  a  maiden  whom  our 
Lady  of  Mount  Damatrys  has  taken  under  her  holy 
keeping."  The  gay  youth  laughed  aloud.  "Why, 
my  forest  beauty,  I  thought  you  knew  me!  I  am 
Romanus,  son  of  the  Basileus,  at  your  service,  to  give 

26 


The    Betrothal 

you  whatever  you  please  to  ask — be  it  jewels,  robes, 
or  charms,  but  in  any  case  the  love  of  a  king's  son," 
he  murmured,  seizing  her  again,  and  with  a  look  of 
genuine  rapture. 

"This  to  me,  thy  consecrated  maiden,  0  Holy  Theo- 
tokos!"  shrieked  Anastasia,  with  an  air  of  frantic  dis- 
dain, as  she  sank  to  the  pavement  and  flung  herself 
down  sobbing  before  the  image  of  the  saint.  Her  agony 
and  outraged  modesty  quite  touched  the  young  Caesar, 
who,  profligate  as  he  had  already  become,  was  still 
very  young  and  had  gentle  feelings  by  nature.  In  all 
his  experience  of  the  houris  of  the  palace  and  the 
city,  he  had  met  nothing  like  this  before,  and  the  sight 
of  such  wonderful  beauty,  united  to  such  miraculous 
modesty,  filled  him  with  a  new  love,  such  as  he  had 
never  dreamed  of  in  all  the  adventures  of  his  gay 
young  life.  "Nay,"  he  said,  at  last,  after  trying  in 
vain  to  alleviate  her  sobs,  "I  mean  not  to  offer  you 
any  offence,  nor  am  I  such  a  brute  as  could  give  a 
moment's  pain  to  the  loveliest  woman  in  my  father's 
empire — to  her  who  has  saved  my  life.  Anastasia,  I 
have  loved  you  since  that  hour  when  you  seemed  to 
have  come  down  like  the  angel  who  comforts  a  dying 
man.  I  love  you  now;  I  love  you  to  distraction.  I 
would  fling  away  empire  itself  if  I  might  keep  you.  I 
swear  by  our  own  St.  Stephen  of  the  Daphne  that  I  will 
give  thee  a  palace  near  the  Augusteum,  and  thou  shalt 
have  the  establishment  of  a  princess.  I  will  have  thee 
acknowledged  by  the  palace  as  the  chosen  love  of 
Caesar;  and  when  I  am  autocrator  myself  thou  shalt 
ask  of  me  what  thou  wilt,  O  thou  most  lovely  and 
dearest  of  women!     I  will — " 

"Ah,  saints  in  heaven,  and  thou,  Holy  Mother  of 
27 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

God!"  shrieked  Anastasia  again,  with  a  fresh  out- 
burst of  convulsive  sobs,  "must  I  listen  to  such  insults? 
If  thou  art,  indeed,  Romanus,  son  of  Constantine  Born- 
in-the-Purple,  thou  knowest  not  to  whom  thou  darest 
to  offer  thy  dishonorable  love.  No  breath  of  scandal 
has  ever  tainted  me  or  mine.  My  birth  is, indeed,  far 
above  thine,  proud  as  thou  boastest  thine.  My  an- 
cestors were  kings  in  Greece  when  all  in  this  land 
were  barbarians.  My  blood  for  a  thousand  years  has 
run  in  royal  houses  —  fallen,  despoiled,  forgotten,  but 
pure  as  the  snow  on  Mount  Olympus.  Who  was  thy 
great-grandfather's  sire,  O  Romanus  of  the  race  of 
Basil  the  Macedonian?  Did  he  know  himself  —  did 
any  man  know — or  his  own  mother?  And  thou,  his 
direct  descendant,  offerest  outrages  to  me,  the 
daughter  of  a  hundred  kings,  the  chosen  maiden  of 
Our  Lady  here!" — and  she  sank  back  exhausted 
with  her  passion,  sobbing  aloud  —  "because  I  am 
lonely,  poor,  an  orphan,  and  unprotected  by  man, 
though  watched  over  by  the  Queen  of  Heaven 
above." 

And  here  she  broke  away  with  a  faint  scream;  and, 
whirling  around  her  limbs  the  flowing  draperies  of 
white  gauze,  like  a  maenad  chased  by  a  satyr,  she 
rushed  across  the  chapel,  and,  dashing  into  a  small, 
dark  oratory  at  the  other  side,  she  seemed  to  seize  the 
ikon  of  Our  Lady  with  her  hand  as  if  claiming  sanctu- 
ary of  her  patron  divinity. 

Romanus  followed  her  as  soon  as  his  eyes  could  de- 
tect her  in  her  retreat;  and,  panting  with  his  effort, 
he  cried:  "Anastasia,  listen  to  me  again,  and  forgive 
my  words  of  mad  love!  I  swear  by  the  saints  above 
that  I  will  make  you  my  wife,  so  soon  as  I  am  seated 

28 


The   Betrothal 

on  the  golden  throne,"  gasped  Romanus,  now  wild 
with  love,  passion,  and  excitement. 

"Swear  that  we  are  betrothed  this  moment  in  the 
sight  of  God  and  His  saints.  Swear  it  with  thy  hand 
placed  on  the  ikon  of  Our  Lady  here,  as  God  shall 
save  thy  soul  in  the  last  judgment.  Swear  thus — '  I, 
Romanus,  take  thee,  Anastasia,  for  my  wedded  wife, 
till  death  do  us  part.'  Swear  it  with  thy  hand  on  this 
ikon,  made,  as  thou  knowest,  by  no  earthly  hand. 
Swear  as  I  tell  thee,  or  never  see  me  again!" 

Mad  with  love  and  half  intoxicated  with  adventure 
as  he  was,  Romanus  uttered  the  sacramental  words 
half  in  jest  and  half  in  earnest;  he  hardly  knew  what 
he  was  doing.  And  as  he  spoke,  the  venerable  hermit 
whose  cell  adjoined  the  chapel,  a  priest  who  had  long 
forsaken  the  world,  stepped  forth  in  his  ceremonial 
robes  from  the  dark  corner  in  which  he  had  been  on 
his  face  at  his  devotions  quite  concealed  from  view. 
"Amen,  amen,"  the  venerable  man  of  God  said,  with 
profound  solemnity  in  the  ritual  chant.  "Those  whom 
God  hath  joined  together  let  no  man  put  asunder. 
My  son  and  my  daughter,  go  your  ways  in  peace.  Ye 
are  betrothed  husband  and  spouse.  May  Mary  the 
Divine  Mother  and  St.  Demetrius  guide  ye  both  in 
blessed  wedlock." 

And  as  he  spoke  Anastasia  slipped  back  into  the 
arms  of  her  old  nurse,  Charmion,  who  was  holding  her 
cloak  hard  by  in  another  dark  corner  of  the  chapel. 
The  hermit  and  the  two  women  passed  noiselessly  out 
into  the  night;  and  the  young  Romanus  stood  alone 
in  the  dark  chapel,  revolving  in  his  mind  what  it  meant 
and  what  was  to  be  the  end  of  this  amour.  He  had 
caught  sight  of  the  girl  already  once  or  twice  in  the 

29 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

three  months  that  had  passed  during  his  convalescence, 
but  always  in  presence  of  her  nurse  or  father,  and  he 
felt  himself  to  have  sunk  madly  in  love  with  her  mar- 
vellous beauty  and  queenly  air.  Of  a  truth,  she  could 
be  no  burgher's  daughter:  he  had  already  heard  vague 
rumors  about  Craterus  and  his  royal  ancestors.  And 
where  had  he  seen  that  old  hermit  who  had  so  myste- 
riously sprung  up  out  of  the  dark  cell  beside  the  altar 
of  Our  Lady?  He  thought  he  had  once  before  met 
those  foxlike  eyes  and  that  lofty  brow.  But  the  long, 
white  beard  and  priestly  robes?  Priest,  monk,  her- 
mit! Had  he  sworn  wedlock  before  the  priest  of  the 
Most  High?  Betrothed!  Married!  Was  it  a  jest  or 
something  more?  And  the  wild  lad  laughed,  and  then 
he  drew  a  deep  sigh,  and  then  again  he  laughed,  and 
as  he  left  the  sacred  spot  he  swore  a  deep  oath  by  the 
saint  to  whom  he  never  was  forsworn  that  Anastasia 
should  be  his,  come  what  might.  And  as  he  passed 
on  to  his  attendants  who  waited  for  him  in  the  copse 
hard  by  he  determined  to  call  to  his  counsels  the 
chamberlain,  the  Lord  Theodore,  whose  skill  in  in- 
trigue he  knew  to  be  unrivalled,  and  of  whose  fidelity 
to  himself  he  was  entirely  assured. 

The  lord  chamberlain  listened  carefully  to  the  story 
of  the  young  prince's  adventure  and  asked  him  again 
and  again  to  repeat  exactly  what  had  passed.  But  the 
youth  was  in  a  state  of  transport  and  excitement  so 
wild  that  the  true  facts  were  only  drawn  out  of  his 
memory  by  degrees.  "It  would  be  too  great  a  risk," 
said  the  courtier  at  last,  "to  stir  up  a  scandal  in  con- 
nection with  the  shrine  of  St.  Demetrius  so  near  to  the 
city  which  holds  this  particular  ikon  in  such  awe. 
And  if  the  girl  still  resists  all  promises  and  gifts,  your 

3° 


G    UNIV. 

r  V 


The   Betrothal 


Imperial  Highness  would  be  wise  to  think  of  her  no 
more." 

"Never!  never!"  shouted  the  prince,  in  a  passion; 
"I  will  give  up  the  throne  itself,  my  life,  my  chance 
of  heaven,  but  not  this  girl,  whom  I  have  sworn  by 
St.  Stephen  of  the  Daphne  to  make  my  wife." 

"Surely  not!"  said  Lord  Theodore,  now  in  genuine 
alarm.  "How  often  has  the  patriarch,  in  confession, 
warned  your  Highness  against  being  forsworn  by  that 
saint  of  all  others!  But  tell  me  precisely  the  words 
that  passed.  You  never  have  vowed  marriage  in 
presence  of  a  witness?" 

And  now  the  youth,  sobered  by  the  evident  anxiety 
of  the  wily  courtier,  rehearsed  all  the  circumstances 
and  the  words  spoken  in  presence  of  the  hermit  who 
had  pronounced  at  the  altar  the  fatal  words  of  the 
betrothal,  as  the  old  nurse  would  witness. 

"And  the  old  hermit  betrothed  you  two,  if  he  did 
not  actually  marry  you  to  the  woman?"  stammered 
out  the  chamberlain;  and  he  struck  his  forehead  in 
dismay  as  he  muttered,  "God  in  heaven  help  us!" 
For  he  well  knew  the  close  confidence  that  existed  be- 
tween the  hermit  of  St.  Demetrius  and  the  vener- 
able patriarch  of  Constantinople.  He  well  knew  also 
how  deeply  the  patriarch  abhorred  the  character  and 
parasites  of  the  young  prince,  and  how  gladly  the 
bold  and  sincere  high  -  priest  of  Hagia  Sophia  would 
see  the  succession  of  Romanus  fail  or  be  set  aside. 
Even  the  experienced  craft  of  Theodore  did  not  sus- 
pect the  identity  of  the  hermit,  and  he  never  doubted 
for  an  instant  that  the  old  priest  of  St.  Demetrius 
thoroughly  understood  and  would  use  all  the  power 
over  the  court  which  the  incident  had  given  him. 

31 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"If,  indeed,  the  sacramental  words  of  marriage,  or 
even  of  betrothal,  have  been  pronounced  before  and  by 
such  a  holy  man  as  the  hermit,  and  one  so  deeply 
reverenced  in  the  city,  the  case  is  assuredly  fit  for  all 
our  care  and  thought,"  at  last  murmured  the  cham- 
berlain. Should  he  not  himself  promote  this  intrigue? 
He  reflected.  He  had  heard  much  already  of  the  sur- 
passing beauty  of  Anastasia,  of  her  consummate  grace 
and  adroitness,  and  of  all  her  pretension  to  royal  birth 
in  Greece.  He  began  to  run  over  in  his  mind  the 
marvellous  history  of  humble  beauties  who  had 
mounted  the  throne  of  the  Sacred  Palace.  He  saw, 
as  in  a  vision,  how  he,  Theodore,  might  rule  supreme 
in  a  new  reign  if  he  could  bind  to  himself  the  infatu- 
ated prince  and  this  lovely  but  utterly  untutored 
girl  as  his  wife.  And  he  well  knew  that  the  title  and 
the  reign  of  Constantine  Born-in-the-Purple  were  run- 
ning down  fast  into  their  final  sands. 

And  so  the  lord  chamberlain  escorted  homeward 
his  young  lord  and  his  apt  pupil,  himself  deeply  medi- 
tating on  the  future  and  its  vast  possibilities,  while 
the  love  -  sick  prince  lay  silent  in  his  barge  on  the 
moonlit  water,  wrapt  in  delicious  reveries  as  he  re- 
called every  word  and  look  of  his  betrothed  and 
pressed  to  his  lips  the  kerchief  that  he  had  snatched 
from  her  bosom  when  he  held  her  in  his  arms. 


IV 
The  Young  Augusta 

THE  lord  chamberlain  was  not  the  man  to  dis- 
appoint the  young  prince,  his  future  master;  and 
for  some  months  he  had  carried  on  a  most  elaborate 
series  of  schemes  and  intrigues.  He  plunged  into 
these  all  the  more  that  he  perceived  how  rapidly  the 
health  of  the  emperor  was  sinking  day  by  day.  Con- 
stantine  Porphyrogennetus  was  himself  aware  of  his 
decline.  One  night  he  had  received  a  solemn  embassy 
from  Olga,  the  czarina  of  the  Russ,  with  more  than 
usual  ceremonial.  A  great  feast  had  been  celebrated 
in  the  golden  banqueting  hall,  or  chrysotriklinos.  This 
gorgeous  chamber  was  roofed  by  a  spacious  dome 
of  rich  mosaic  designs  and  lighted  by  sixteen  win- 
dows ranged  around  the  base  of  the  dome.  In  the 
centre  hung  a  vast  chandelier  of  silver,  while  the  walls 
were  decorated  with  figures  of  saints  on  a  background 
of  golden  mosaic.  The  floor  was  paved  with  precious 
marbles,  now  covered  with  rare  carpets  and  rugs,  and 
the  emperor,  with  the  patriarch  and  three  other 
great  officers,  had  dined  at  the  golden  table  of  high 
state. 

The  feeble  emperor,  who  had  struggled  to  go  through 
all  the  appointed  offices  of  a  ceremonial  banquet,  had 
been  borne  by  his  cubiculars  of  the  chamber  through 

33 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  great  silver  gates  that  led  into  the  Long  Saloon; 
and,  while  dessert  and  condiments  were  served  to  his 
guests  in  the  Aristaion,  he  was  carried  into  the  impe- 
rial bedchamber  and  laid  upon  a  couch. 

There  the  most  majestic  autocrator  sank  down  with 
so  much  exhaustion  that  the  Augusta  and  her  son, 
Romanus,  were  summoned  to  his  side. 

It  was  a  scene  that  night  in  the  innermost  privy- 
chambers  of  the  sovereign  to  point  an  epigrammatic 
essay  on  vanity  or  a  pathetic  sermon  upon  death. 
While  the  rude  envoys  from  the  Russian  capital  in 
Kiev  were  conducted,  open-eyed  and  stolid  as  they 
were,  from  one  gorgeous  hall  to  another,  and  were 
plied  with  every  sight  that  could  fill  them  with  awe 
of  the  autocrator  of  the  Romans;  while  the  marble 
corridors,  anterooms,  and  portals  that  surrounded  the 
Golden  Banqueting  Hall  were  crowded  with  senators, 
cubiculars,  proto-spathaires,  acolytes,  and  patricians, 
all  in  state  robes,  with  chains  and  badges  of  office, 
and  with  them  in  picturesque  confusion  were  mixed 
the  guard  of  honor  and  the  quaint  uniforms  of  the 
Varangian  battle-axemen,  the  Mighty  Lord  of  the 
World  and  King  of  Kings  lay  faintly  reclining  on  a 
couch.  His  head  was  supported  by  his  youngest 
daughter,  Agatha,  who  hung  over  her  father  with 
loving  care.  Beside  him,  on  a  low  stool,  sat  the  aged 
Empress  Helena,  herself  not  much  stronger  than  her 
husband,  and  by  her  side  the  tall,  handsome  figure  of 
the  young  Basileus,  in  all  the  glow  of  his  youthful  grace 
and  the  jewelled  robes  of  state  in  which  he  now  was 
arrayed. 

"Our  son  has  come,  my  lord  and  august  spouse," 
the  Augusta  began,  in  winning  tones,  "to  ask  a  blessing 

34 


The  Young  Augusta 

of  his  imperial  father,  and  to  pray  for  his  sanction  to 
the  marriage  as  to  which  our  Romanus  has  already 
spoken  to  us  both.  The  noble  lady  Euphemia,  the 
wife  of  our  lord  chamberlain,  is  the  kinswoman  of  the 
beautiful  Theophano,  and  has  duly  presented  her  at 
my  court.  The  Lord  Theodore  himself  has  made 
ample  inquiries,  and  finds  that  this  lady  is  of  royal 
descent  from  the  ancient  kings  of  Sparta,  and  is  her- 
self as  acccomplished  and  discreet  as  she  certainly  is 
surpassingly  beautiful.  If  it  be  the  will  of  my  lord 
the  sovereign,  the  Lady  Euphemia,  who  is  now,  with 
her  fascinating  kinswoman,  in  my  private  apartments, 
will  introduce  her  to  your  Sacred  Majesty,  and  she  will 
ask  a  blessing  on  her  betrothal  to  our  son." 

"We  have  long  desired  to  see  our  son  well  wedded 
before  we  are  called  to  Christ  ourselves,"  the  gentle 
emperor  began,  "and  have  long  felt  grieved  that  he 
could  never  decide  on  his  choice.  But  so  all-impor- 
tant is  the  conduct  of  the  future  Basilissa  that  perhaps 
he  did  well  to  wait.  If  this  lady  be  of  royal  birth,  and 
if  our  trusty  Theodore  and  his  virtuous  lady  are  fully 
assured  of  her  discretion,  deportment,  and  breeding, 
our  son  shall  have  his  way  and  his  father's  blessing. 
How  is  she  named,  my  son,  and  since  when  and  from 
whence  has  she  come  to  our  court?" 

"She  is  called  Theophano,  my  royal  father,  a  name 
we  all  love  and  honor  as  that  of  my  darling  sister. 
And  this  wonder  of  the  world  is  but  recently  arrived 
at  the  palace  of  her  kinswoman,  the  Lady  Euphemia, 
from  the  banks  of  the  Eurotas,  in  the  Peloponnesus, 
where  her  father  once  held  a  now  decayed  principality. 
Let  me  bring  her  to  the  presence  of  your  Majesty; 
and  your  profound  understanding  of  ceremonial  deport  - 

35 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

ment  will  perceive  how  truly  this  royal  lady  was  de- 
signed by  Heaven  itself  to  be  a  Basilissa." 

With  the  emperor's  consent,  the  chamberlains  and 
ladies  of  the  court  at  once  summoned  the  Lady  Eu- 
phemia,  accompanied  by  her  kinswoman  Theophano. 
The  young  Basileus  himself  stepped  forward  as  the 
lord  cubicular-in-waiting  announced  the  noble  ladies 
in  due  form,  and  led  his  Theophano  to  the  couch  of 
his  father,  himself  beaming  on  her  with  admiration 
and  love.  As  she  slowly  advanced,  with  the  three 
appropriate  reverences  in  use,  the  serene  composure  of 
her  countenance  just  mantling  over  with  subdued 
blushes,  all  eyes  in  the  chamber  were  bent  on  her,  and 
every  soul  felt  a  thrill  of  wonder  and  admiration. 
Theophano  was  now  arrayed  in  silk-embroidered  robes, 
the  most  sumptuous  which  the  art  of  Constantinople 
could  provide,  and  adorned  with  priceless  jewels  which 
Romanus  and  Theodore  had  managed  to  procure  from 
the  recesses  of  the  sacred  treasure-cell  in  the  chapel 
of  St.  Theodore  behind  the  Chrysotriklinos. 

In  casting  off  the  virginal  simplicity  of  Anastasia, 
the  aspirant  Theophano  had  taken  on  a  new  bearing 
along  with  the  change  of  name.  Her  manner  was 
that  of  a  queen,  and  of  a  queen  who  was  wont  to  bend 
all  men  to  her  slightest  caprice.  She  took  her  place 
in  the  imperial  circle  as  if  she  herself  had  been  born 
in  the  purple  chamber.  And  even  the  lovely  Agatha, 
the  princess  by  her  side,  seemed  more  fit  to  be  her 
lady-in-waiting  than  her  sister-in-law.  Never  had  the 
imperial  palace  been  graced  by  such  dazzling  beauty 
and  such  royal  grace.  And  even  the  autocrator  him- 
self, oracle  of  dignity  and  behavior  as  he  was,  was 
•  bewitched   into  the   pleasant   belief  that  at   last   his 

36 


The  Young  Augusta 

truant  son  had,  indeed,  found  a  royal  lady  worthy  to 
continue  the  race  oftheConstantinesBorn-in-the  Purple. 

"Approach,  royal  maiden  of  the  Spartan  line,"  said 
the  easy  and  affectionate  Augustus,  enchanted  with 
the  beauty  and  dignity  of  the  girl;  "come  and  kiss  thy 
father  that  adopts  thee,  and  perform  the  ceremonial 
obeisance  in  use  to  our  queen,  the  Augusta,  whose 
daughter  thou  art  to  be." 

Theophano  moved  forward  gently,  with  every  eye 
on  her  steps,  radiant  and  majestic  as  if  Here  were 
entering  the  expectant  circle  of  Olympus.  During  the 
three  months  that  she  had  passed  in  the  palace  of  the 
lord  chamberlain,  where  she  had  been  under  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Lady  Euphemia  and  had  accepted  noth- 
ing but  the  ceremonial  courtship  of  the  infatuated 
prince,  Theophano  had  been  carefully  trained  in  all 
the  minutiae  of  the  etiquette  of  that  most  ceremonious 
of  all  imperial  courts.  Her  genius  for  seduction  had 
made  her  a  consummate  mistress  of  all  the  graces  of 
a  court.  And  born  actress  as  she  was,  she  went  through 
the  ordeal  of  these  formal  obeisances  with  such  perfect 
dignity  and  charm  that,  while  the  whole  company 
were  delighted  with  her  bearing,  the  emperor  himself 
was  in  uncontrollable  raptures  which  his  own  fine  man- 
ners could  hardly  conceal. 

To  the  morbid  imagination  of  the  now  enfeebled 
emperor,  whose  innermost  religion  had  long  been  the 
maintenance  not  so  much  of  the  empire  itself  as  of 
the  traditions  of  the  imperial  ceremonial,  the  prospect 
of  a  marriage  of  the  youthful  Basileus  to  a  magnificent 
woman,  worthy  indeed  of  the  golden  throne,  was  an 
event  of  the  first  magnitude  and  of  almost  divine  dis- 
pensation.    "And  thinkest  thou,  my  sweet  Basilissa- 

37 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

elect,  that  thou  wilt  have  strength  to  comport  thyself 
exactly  in  all  the  appointed  usages  of  an  imperial  mar- 
riage?"  said  the  doting  Constantine  Born-in-the-Purple, 
"for  it  needs  the  memory  of  a  proto - cubicular  to  go 
through  the  ceremonials  without  a  slip,  and  the 
majesty  of  St.  Helena  herself,  our  imperial  ancestress, 
to  bear  thyself  fitly  in  that  day  of  days." 

"  Most  august  sovereign  lord  and  father,"  softly 
murmured  Theophano,  in  an  attitude  of  profound  rev- 
erence, "I  have  been  permitted  by  her  Sacred  Majesty's 
favor  to  offer  up  my  prayers  for  help  to  our  most  Holy 
Lady  in  the  Daphne  here,  and  a  special  assurance  has 
been  vouchsafed  to  me  that  by  her  aid  I  shall  be  equal 
to  the  duties  that  will  devolve  on  me  on  that  auspicious 
day." 

"Thou  shalt  hear  in  the  authentic  words  of  the 
autocrator  himself  how  the  marriage  ceremonial  of  a 
Basileus  is  performed,"  said  Constantine,  quite  roused 
to  infatuation  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  his  own  court 
ritual  enacted  in  his  presence.  "Send  for  the  reader- 
in-waiting,  and  let  them  bring  in  the  roll  of  my  book 
on  the  Ceremonies  in  Use  at  Court.  I  will  have  the 
chapter  of  '  Royal  Marriage '  rehearsed  this  very  night 
in  presence  of  the  royal  bridegroom  and  bride  that 
are  to  be." 

The  parchment  roll,  the  scribe,  and  the  reader  (never 
far  from  the  side  of  the  imperial  pedant)  were  at  once 
in  attendance. 

"Here,  here  is  the  passage,"  cried  the  feeble  despot, 
foolishly  fumbling  the  rolls  in  his  eagerness  to  turn  to 
his  own  much  -  treasured  revelations  of  deportment. 
"Give  me  the  first  book  of  our  Basileia  Taxis — turn 
to  Chapter  XXXIX. — on  the  '  Ritual  for  an  Imperial 

38 


The  Young  Augusta 

Marriage.'  Now  read — where  we  say  how  the  divine 
service  is  held  in  the  shrine  of  St.  Stephen  the  Proto- 
martyr  in  our  Daphne,  and  so  on." 

The  reader  approached,  and  amid  profound  silence 
read  as  follows,  the  imperial  dotard  nodding  and  smil- 
ing feebly  to  his  family  as  each  passage  gave  him 
new  delight: 

"  When  the  imperial  pair  have  been  duly  diademed  in  the 
Sacred  Office,  they  pass  though  the  Octagon  and  the  Augus- 
teum  and  by  the  Golden  Hand,  and  they  are  received  by  the 
magistroi  and  patricians  in  the  CEnopodium,  and  the  cere- 
monial procession  is  formed.  The  Factions  are  arranged  in 
the  Triclinium  on  both  sides  near  the  stairs  of  the  Magnaura. 
Then  the  choirs  of  the  two  Factions  chant,  '  Long,  long,  long,' 
and  all  respond,  'Long,  long  life:  long  and  for  evermore!' 
Then  the  solos  take  it  up — 'Our  Saviour,  preserve  our  Lords: 
Holy  Ghost,  protect  our  Augustus!  Sovereign  Bridegroom, 
may  God  have  thee  in  His  holy  keeping!  May  God  in  heaven 
give  thee  grace  abounding  in  thy  wedlock!  May  He  who  of 
old  time  blessed  the  marriage  in  Cana  bless  thy  marriage  also, 
and  may  He  visit  thy  spouse,  so  that  offspring  may  be  born  of 
thee  in  the  Purple  Chamber.  This  day  is  a  festival  of  joy  to 
the  Roman  people,  wherein  our  Lord  (Romanus)  is  espoused 
to  our  Lady  (Theophano) .  our  most  blessed  Augusta.'  Then 
the  wedded  pair  pass  on  to  the  hall  where  the  Factions  are 
feasted,  and  again  the  two  choirs  renew  their  chants,  singing 
'Hail!  All  hail!  Sovereign  of  the  Romans,  blessed  be  thy 
coming  and  that  of  thy  consort!'  And  the  people  shout, 
'  Blessings  on  thee,  joy  of  the  Romans,  glory  of  the  Purple. 
Blessings  on  thee,  lady,  whom  all  desire  to  behold!  May  God 
hear  the  prayers  of  thy  people!'  And  thence  the  wedded 
pair  proceed  to  the  nuptial  alcove,  where  they  lay  down  their 
diadems  on  the  bridal  bed  of  state;  and  hence  they  pass  through 
the  portico  to  the  Hall  of  the  Nineteen  Couches,  where  the 
feast  is  spread." 

The  younger  members  of  the  family  now  began  to 
show  visible  signs  of  fatigue  as  the  reader  poured  out 

«  39 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  interminable  catalogue  of  salaams,  processions, 
chants,  and  antiphones  prescribed  in  the  imperial 
Manual  of  Etiquette.  And  the  exhaustion  of  the  invalid 
emperor  was  so  obvious,  in  spite  of  his  enthusiasm 
and  elation,  that  the  Augusta  induced  her  lord  to  com- 
mand the  close  of  the  reading  and  to  retire  to  rest  in 
the  Sacred  Chamber. 

The  marriage  of  the  young  Basileus  Romanus  with 
the  illustrious  Princess  Theophano  of  Lacedaemon  was 
celebrated  with  all  the  splendor  of  that  age  of  pomp 
and   all    the    elaborate    ceremonial   ordained  by  that 
most  rigid  of  all  imperial  purists.     Constantine  Porphy- 
rogennetus,  who  was  now  become  little  more  than  the 
grand  master  of  the  ceremonies  in  his  own  palace,  the 
veritable  "Grand  Monarque"  and  "  Roi  Soldi"  of  the 
tenth  century,   seemed  to  have  recovered  something 
of  his  strength  from  the  supreme  satisfaction  of  seeing 
one  of  his  own  highest  functions  carried  out  to  per- 
fection in  every  detail,  and  by  the  prospect  of  an  as- 
sured succession  to  the  Basilian  dynasty  in  the  fruitful 
marriage  of  his  only  son.     The  birth  of  another  Basil, 
hereafter  to  be  known  as  the  mighty  warrior,  "The 
Slayer  of  the  Bulgarians,"  was  soon  followed  by  that 
of  another  Constantine,  destined  to  be  eighth  emperor 
of  that  glorious  name.     The  Basilian  dynasty  seemed 
saved;    and  the  Sacred  Palace  was  the  scene  of  an 
endless    round    of    magnificent    ceremonies,    fantastic 
amusements,  incessant  scandals,  and  sinister  intrigues. 
Marriage,  alas!  seemed  only  to  have  given  the  young 
Basileus  increased  zest  for  wild  sports  and  scandalous 
adventures,  which  were  rapidly  destroying  his  health 
and  sapping  what  was  left  in  him  of  moral  fibre.     Now 
he  plunged  into  the  forests  of  Thrace,  now  into  those 

40 


The  Young  Augusta 

of  Bithynia,  to  hunt  the  boar  or  the  bear,  exhaust- 
ing himself  in  midnight  fatigues  and  exposure  to  all 
weathers  and  seasons.  From  time  to  time  he  was  seen 
in  the  Tzykanisterion,  or  polo-ground,  in  the  east  side 
of  the  palace  between  the  pharos  and  the  sea-wall. 
Here  the  young  nobles,  having  the  entree,  were  wont 
to  engage  in  polo  and  other  exercises  on  horseback. 
This  spacious  practising  -  ground  had  been  extended 
and  levelled  by  the  Emperor  Basil.  And  here  his 
royal  descendant  loved  to  exhibit  his  prowess  as  a 
player  in  that  manly  game  of  polo  which  the  Byzan- 
tines had  adopted  from  the  Persians.  The  young 
prince  had  been  trained  from  boyhood  in  the  game 
by  the  noble  Basil  Digenes,  who  had  an  hereditary 
gift  for  this  sport,  and  who  alone  was  regarded  as  the 
match  of  Romanus.  It  was  no  flattery  when  the  best 
players  in  the  kingdom  yielded  the  victory  to  the 
splendid  horsemanship  and  keen  eye  of  the  imperial 
athlete,  while  the  courtiers  and  ladies  of  the  royal 
households  surveyed  the  games  from  arcades  of  the 
terrace  above.  First  one  and  then  another  of  the 
beauties  who  thronged  those  gay  companies  would 
be  chosen  by  the  gallant  prince  to  receive  the  crown 
or  garland  which  was  the  winner's  prize;  and  the 
vagrant  amours  of  his  insatiable  fancy  gave  as  much 
ceaseless  gossip  to  the  witty  and  frivolous  court  as 
ever  did  a  Louis  at  Versailles  or  a  Charles  at  White- 
hall. Not  that  the  adventures  of  Romanus  were  con- 
fined in  any  sense  to  the  Sacred  Palace,  nor  his  love- 
making  to  maids  of  honor  or  high-born  dames.  Frolics, 
sports,  orgies,  carouses  of  all  kinds  —  wine,  women, 
mummers,  acrobats — all  came  alike  to  Romanus  with 
his  thirst  for  excitement  and  pleasure.     Old  soldiers 

4i 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

and  the  wary  administrators  of  the  government  looked 
sad  and  doubtful.  But  Theophano  herself,  whose  dis- 
creetness and  virtue  had  been  so  fully  approved  and 
certified  by  the  Augusta  and  by  the  Lady  Euphemia, 
was  not  seen  to  complain  of  or  even  to  perceive  the 
excesses  of  her  boy  lord.  Indeed,  some  scandalous 
old  dames  who  attended  on  the  aged  Empress  Helena 
had  been  heard  to  insinuate  (with  much  shaking  of 
heads  and  many  a  "My  dear,  if  I  only  could  speak") 
that  Theophano  had  more  than  once  flung  into  the 
arms  of  her  lawful  mate  a  pretty  young  thing  about 
her  own  person,  who  in  no  way  thereby  seemed  to  for- 
feit her  mistress's  favor. 


V 
The   Dying  Emperor 

CONvSTANTINE  BORN-IN-THE-PURPLE,  who, 
if  he  had  degenerated  into  a  ceremonial  martinet, 
was  neither  depraved  nor  idiotic,  watched  with  sorrow 
and  shame  the  excesses  of  his  only  son,  though  his  easy 
indulgence  and  his  enfeebled  will  prevented  him  from 
interfering  to  check  them.  And,  steeped  as  he  was  in 
the  narcotic  poison  of  a  crowd  of  parasites  and  syco- 
phants, he  had  yet  too  much  experience  of  empire  and 
of  the  enormous  burdens  of  its  ruler  not  to  turn  with 
a  heavy  heart  to  the  ominous  storm-clouds  around 
his  throne.  He  felt  himself  dying  by  inches;  and,  in 
spite  of  the  extravagant  adulation  that  formed  his  daily 
existence,  he  had  too  much  sense  not  to  be  aware  that 
he  was  leaving  his  empire  to  a  broken  and  reckless 
debauchee,  his  wife  and  daughters  to  an  ambitious 
and  unscrupulous  rival,  and  the  frontiers  of  his  vast 
dominions  a  prey  to  powerful  enemies — to  the  advanc- 
ing tide  of  the  Prophet,  to  the  savage  corsairs  who 
swept  the  ^Egean  Sea  and  the  coasts  of  Asia,  and  to 
the  barbarous  hordes  on  the  Ister  and  the  Danapris, 
who  hung  like  avalanches  from  the  northern  steppes 
ready  to  burst  on  the  plains  below.  Long  and  weary 
were  the  secret  councils  which  the  broken  Augustus 
would    hold   with    minister   or   general,    high  -  priest, 

43 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

philosopher,  or  monk,  whom  from  time  to  time  he 
would  call  to  offer  him  advice. 

The  emperor  of  the  Romans  at  Constantinople, 
feeble  and  pedantic  as  was  Constantine  himself,  was 
still  surrounded  by  statesmen  of  great  experience  and 
sagacity,  who  were  served  by  an  immense  army  of 
trained  officials  and  zealous  administrators.  This 
secular  organization  kept  in  life  and  activity  the  vast 
fabric  of  civilized  government  which  had  been  built  up 
by  a  long  succession  of  Constantines,  Basils,  and  Leos, 
and  which  was  carried  back  by  tradition  to  the  ages 
of  Justinian  and  Theodosius,  even  to  those  of  the 
Antonines  and  Trajan.  It  was  far  in  advance  of  any 
engine  of  government  then  existing  on  earth,  unless 
it  were  for  the  moment  in  Andalusia;  and  it  main- 
tained the  framework  of  civilization  and  of  imperial 
administration  at  an  age  when  both  the  Asiatic  and 
the  Teutonic  polities  were  in  a  state  of  flux  and  rudi- 
ment. The  sovereign  lord  of  Constantinople  still  held 
in  subjection  the  manifold  races  of  his  heterogeneous 
dominion  by  means  partly  of  the  overwhelming  tra- 
dition of  Roman  rule,  partly  by  the  mysterious  conse- 
cration he  received  from  the  Orthodox  Church,  but 
practically  by  the  instrument  of  a  trained  and  organ- 
ized service,  both  civil  and  military,  much  as  the  czar 
of  Russia  and  the  padishah  of  Roum  have  held  their 
kingdoms  together  in  spite  of  corruption,  folly,  and 
intrigue  in  the  court,  and  at  times  gross  incompetence 
on  the  throne  itself. 

On  one  day,  at  the  close  of  Constantine's  life  and 
reign — he  was  now  in  his  fifty-fifth  year — nearly  all 
of  which  time  he  had  been  nominally  Basileus,  the  em- 
peror held  long  and  anxious  privy  council  with  several 

44 


The   Dying  Emperor 

of  his  great  officers  of  state.  The  conclave  had  been 
almost  forced  upon  him  by  the  vehement  expostulations 
of  the  patriarch,  the  venerable  Polyeuctus.  This  fa- 
mous prelate  had  been  brought  from  his  monastery, 
where  his  austere  piety  and  zealous  spirit  had  covered 
him  with  a  halo  of  sanctity,  in  order  to  purge  the 
Holy  See  of  St.  Sophia  from  the  scandalous  extrava- 
gances of  Theophylact,  when  that  horse-racing  patri- 
arch had  been  killed  by  a  vicious  stallion  he  had  bred. 
Polyeuctus  did  not  hesitate  to  rebuke  even  the  sacred 
person  of  Augustus  himself  before  his  whole  congre- 
gation. And,  much  as  Constantine  resented  and  feared 
the  warnings  of  the  ardent  patriarch,  he  silently  ad- 
mitted the  justice  and  honesty  of  the  stern  monk  and 
fully  understood  the  secret  of  his  unbounded  influ- 
ence. On  this  occasion  the  patriarch  was  supported 
by  the  patrician,  Joseph  Bringas,  lord  high  admiral 
and  lord  commander  of  the  eunuchs,  who,  eunuch 
as  he  was  himself,  was  a  man  of  great  intellect  and 
power,  and  practically  the  chief  authority  within  the 
Sacred  Palace.  He  had  brought  with  him  to  the  im- 
perial cabinet  Sisinnios,  one  of  the  proto-spathaires 
and  prefect  of  the  city;  the  proto-secretis,  or  chief 
secretary,  Theophylact  Matzitzikos;  and  his  Honor 
Judge  Joseph,  one  of  the  spatharo  candidates,  presi- 
dent of  the  High  Court  of  Justice.  These  five  coun- 
cillors were  all  men  capable  of  governing  an  empire 
and  fully  aware  of  the  perils  around  it. 

The  patriarch  began,  as  was  natural  from  his  exalted 
office  and  the  fiery  nature  of  the  man:  "Most  august 
sovereign,  the  critical  condition  of  thy  kingdom  and 
the  manifest  disorder  of  thine  own  household  require 
thy  most  serious  concern;  and  we,  thy  servants,  and 

45 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century- 
servants  by  thy  favor,  be  it  said,  of  the  Most  High 
God  and  of  His  precious  realm,  have  come  to  warn 
thee,  O  King,  even  as  the  prophet  Samuel  gave  warn- 
ing to  Saul  and  the  blessed  St.  Paul  to  Festus. 
Thy  only  son  and  our  future  Basileus  is  filling  this 
city  and  thy  Sacred  Palace  with  his  fooleries,  his 
stage-players,  his  orgies,  and  his  wantoning.  The 
woman  whom  thou  gavest  him  to  wife  does  nothing 
to  restrain  his  vices.  Would  that  we  could  see  in  her 
any  virtues  of  her  own.  She  wastes  the  treasures  of 
thy  kingdom  on  effeminate  displays  and  unworthy 
favorites.  She  is  forming  in  thy  palace  a  party  who 
are  alien  to  thee  and  to  thine ;  she  is  seeking  to  attach 
to  herself  the  most  unscrupulous  adventurers  she  can 
find,  and  is  manifestly  grasping  for  herself  the  power 
of  the  state.  She  openly  flouts  her  Sacred  Majesty 
the  Empress,  and  permits  her  minions  to  speak  evil 
of  the  princesses,  thy  honored  daughters.  In  private 
she  mocks  at  the  sacred  offices  of  the  Church,  and  has 
suffered  them  to  profane  the  very  altar  in  her  private 
chapel  of  St.  Theodore.  Chastise  her  offences,  O 
king,  and  banish  her  to  a  convent  in  some  distant 
island,  or  thy  son,  thy  wife,  and  thy  daughters  will 
be  made  the  victims  of  her  jealousy,  and  thy  golden 
throne  may  be  occupied  one  day  by  some  paramour 
of  her  own  whom  she  has  chosen  to  place  in  power 
by  her  side."  ' 

"Forbear,  forbear  from  such  awful  words,"  groaned 
the  miserable  emperor,  who  sat  propped  up  on  his 
cushions  and  cowering  at  each  blow  of  the  monk's 
words  as  if  he  were  struck  with  a  scourge.  "Forbear, 
most  venerable  patriarch,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  Our 
Lord,    and   the    Holy   Mother   who   bore    Him.     For 

46 


The  Dying  Emperor 

mercy's  sake  cease  thy  maledictions,  and  tell  me  how 
can  I,  the  loving  but  the  dying  father  of  my  head- 
strong son,  venture  to  chastise  him  as  a  boy,  and  how 
can  I  part  him  from  the  wife  he  has  chosen  to  wed, 
and  how  tear  her  down  from  the  high  place  of  state 
which  I  have  given  her  myself.  Alas!  alas!"  cried 
the  broken  old  father,  wringing  his  thin  hands  as  hot 
tears  poured  down  his  emaciated  cheeks,  "have  I  not 
striven  to  train  up  my  son  in  every  virtue  and  in 
princely  deportment  to  make  him  worthy  of  the  royal 
part  he  was  to  bear;  and  this,  this  is  the  end  of  all 
my  pains  and  my  teaching,  of  the  many  tutors  and 
my  own  writings.  And  she  whom  I  gave  him  to  wife 
seemed  so  able  to  bear  all  the  duties  of  Basilissa  and 
to  understand  the  great  part  she  had  assumed.  And 
this  is  the  end  of  our  love  and  our  forethought."  And 
the  poor  old  man  wept  bitter  tears. 

"It  is  not  for  me,  most  august  sovereign,"  replied 
the  zealous  prelate,  "it  is  not  for  us,  the  servants  of 
the  Most  High  God,  absorbed  as  we  are  in  sacred  things, 
to  offer  thee  counsel  in  things  of  the  world ;  nor  am  I 
skilled  in  devising  machinations  of  policy  to  deal  with 
sublunary  intrigues.  This  most  sagacious  counsellor 
here,  the  Lord  Bringas,  or  the  illustrious  patrician 
Sisinnios,  can  advise  thee  in  such  things  which  belong 
to  their  province.  Tis  mine,  O  King,  only  by  fast- 
ings, watchings,  and  adoration  at  the  altar  of  God,  to 
receive  such  warnings  as  His  mercy  vouchsafes  to  con- 
vey to  men  by  the  unworthy  channel  of  His  anointed 
priests.  And  as  one  of  the  humblest  of  these  servants 
of  the  Most  High,  I  tell  thee,  Lord  Sovereign  Augustus, 
to  thy  face,  thou  art  harboring  in  thy  palace  a  woman 
such  as  thy  imperial  ancestors  have  harbored  of  old — 

47 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

an  Irenej  a  Eudocia,  a  Theodora  —  ay,  even  such  a 
one  as  Ahab,  King  of  Israel,  once  harbored  to  the  ruin 
of  his  kingdom  and  his  house."  Constantine  quivered 
and  sobbed  in  silence.  And  the  patriarch  solemnly 
folded  around  him  his  robe  of  office  and  slowly  left  the 
imperial  presence  with  no  visible  sign  of  obeisance, 
adding  only:  "I  go  hence  to  my  place  in  the  Holy 
Wisdom,  to  partake  of  the  body  and  blood  of  Him 
in  whose  sight  the  kings  of  the  earth  are  worms  and 
dust.  I  go  to  pray  for  thee  and  for  this  realm  and 
people  of  Christ." 

The  patriarch,  whose  supreme  office  and  reputation 
for  sanctity  placed  him  for  the  time  on  more  than  an 
equality  with  the  weak  and  yet  conscientious  emperor, 
quitted  the  council,  leaving  Constantine  overwhelmed 
with  his  emotions  and  the  other  officials  somewhat 
alarmed  at  such  an  outburst.  At  last  Joseph  Bringas, 
a  real  statesman  and  a  man  of  energy  and  prudence, 
ventured  to  say:  "Most  august  sovereign,  it  is  not 
for  thy  lay  servants  to  answer  the  accusations  which 
his  Holiness  the  Patriarch  holds  it  his  duty  to  de- 
liver to  his  sovereign.  If  the  words  he  has  presumed 
to  speak  have  been  put  into  his  heart  by  God  Himself, 
thy  royal  wisdom  will  not  fail  to  judge.  For  us,  mere 
lay  ministers  and  thy  counsellors  in  earthly  policy,  it 
is  enough  to  consider  what  is  politic,  practicable,  and 
prudent  to  be  done,  for  the  sake  of  thy  sacred  person, 
thy  family,  and  thy  throne.  It  is  not  for  us  to  judge 
thy  royal  son,  his  Highness  the  Basileus,  but  I  venture 
to  appeal  to  his  father's  heart  if  his  errors  are  more 
than  the  failings  of  such  extreme  youth.  His  natural 
disposition  is  excellent  and  his  goodness  of  heart  makes 
him  indulgent  to  those  about  him.     To  put  him  under 


The   Dying  Emperor 

restraint  would  be  to  light  up  a  civil  war;  to  assail 
the  royal  lady,  his  lawful  spouse,  would  involve  a  rev- 
olution in  the  palace  which  would  soon  spread  to  the 
city.  A  strong  hand  to  guide  his  youth  and  to  check 
the  disorders  of  thy  household  is  all  that  is  needed. 
The  favor  of  your  Majesty  has  given  me  authority  in 
the  past.  Extend  and  continue  thy  royal  favor  to 
thy  devoted  servant,  and  with  the  aid  of  these  coun- 
cillors here,  we  will  answer  for  peace  and  order  at 
home." 

"Intrust  me  with  ample  authority  to  arrest  and 
deport  any  favorite  of  his  Highness  who  may  be  or- 
ganizing sedition  in  the  city,  and  I  will  answer  for  the 
conduct  of  the  Factions  at  all  times,"  said  Sisinnios  the 
prefect. 

"And  the  logothete,  your  Majesty's  treasurer,"  said 
the  chief  secretary,  "must  be  authorized  to  refuse 
those  incessant  advances  which  he  is  called  upon  to 
honor,  ostensibly  for  the  ornaments  and  household  of 
her  Royal  Highness,  but  which  we  have  reason  to 
know  are  being  accumulated  for  a  very  different  ob- 
ject." 

"The  existence  of  your  Majesty's  empire  depends 
on  a  rigid  administration  of  the  imperial  finances," 
broke  in  the  patrician  Bringas.  "The  payment  of 
tribute  has  been  seriously  reduced  for  years  past  by 
the  ravages  ofsthe  Moslem  invaders  on  the  East,  and 
especially  by  the  corsairs  of  Crete.  But  the  whole 
of  our  seaboard  and  Asian  frontier  will  be  drained  of 
its  resources  unless  we  can  restore  the  supremacy  of 
Roman  arms,  so  much  shaken  by  these  infidel  hordes. 
Your  Majesty  has  one  great  soldier  in  your  armies. 
To  him  no  triumphs  are  too  great  to  be  achieved — a 

49 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

soldier  of  courage  and  genius,  that  may  vie  with 
Heraclius,  or  Narses,  or  Belisarius  himself.  Need  I 
say  that  I  mean  Nicephorus,  the  Armenian  of  the 
warlike  race  of  Phocas?  Place  him,  0  king,  at  the 
head  of  a  powerful  army  and  a  fleet  of  equal  strength, 
give  him  thy  imperial  command  to  restore  the  suprem- 
acy of  the  Cross,  and  the  Roman  name  shall  be  again 
as  great  in  the  two  continents  as  was  ever  that  of  Jus- 
tinian or  Theodosius ;  and  Christendom  will  be  rid  for- 
ever of  the  accursed  brood  of  Hagar." 

"Well,  but  this  is  just  what  the  Lord  Akritas  of  the 
Eastern  Marches  told  us,"  interrupted  the  distracted 
Basileus,  "when  I  summoned  him  to  advise  us  on  our 
policy  in  the  East." 

"Most  mighty  sovereign,  it  is  what  every  real  soldier 
has  said  for  a  generation,  and  what  every  wise  man  at 
home  knows  to  be  the  truth." 

"  Have  we  not  made  this  favorite  hero  of  our  armies 
a  grand  marshal  of  the  empire,  commander-in-chief 
of  the  forces  of  the  East?  Have  we  not  loaded  him 
with  honors,  appanages,  and  favors  from  our  throne?" 

"And  he  has  won  each  honor  that  your  Majesty  has 
been  pleased  to  vouchsafe  to  him,  by  saving  a  province 
or  by  increasing  the  empire,"  said  the  chief  eunuch. 

"Nay,  but  if  we  place  in  the  hands  of  this  adored 
general  a  power  so  vast,  will  not  ambition  prompt  him 
to  turn  his  arms  against  our  dynasty  in  the  person 
of  our  too  careless  son?"  asked  the  ever-timid  and 
suspicious  sovereign. 

"Nicephorus  Phocas,"  said  the  chief  eunuch,  "is 
the  soul  of  loyalty  and  the  mirror  of  honor.  He  is  as 
utterly  incapable  of  treason,  rebellion,  or  even  dis- 
obedience as  the  archangel  Michael  beside  the  throne 

5o 


The   Dying   Emperor 

of  God.  Few,  indeed,  are  the  trusted  officers  of  your 
Majesty's  armies  to  whom  I  would  counsel  you  to 
confide  such  paramount  authority  in  arms.  Nor,  in- 
deed, for  that  matter,  would  I  like  to  counsel  that  it 
be  confided  to  any  of  your  Majesty's  servants  at  home," 
said  Joseph  Bringas,  as  he  looked  at  his  colleagues 
with  a  significant  smile. 

"I  would  not  advise  the  bringing  home  this  great 
soldier  from  Asia.  But  Nicephorus  Phocas  may  be 
trusted  to  be  true  to  death  while  he  is  serving  his 
sovereign  in  arms  abroad.  We  may  trust  him  even 
as  we  may  trust  the  saints  in  heaven." 

"And  do  our  trusty  councillors  here  present  in 
audience  share  the  confidence  of  our  most  noble  lord 
admiral  in  the  loyalty  of  the  grand  marshal?"  asked 
the  Basileus,  still  hesitating.  "Are  ye  all  sure  that  when 
he  possesses  the  collective  forces  of  our  empire,  he  will 
still  remain  servant  of  the  illustrious  dynasty  that  was 
founded  by  our  mighty  ancestor  Basil,  of  pious  and 
glorious  memory?" 

"If  his  power  be  limited  to  the  armies,  and  he  be 
occupied  in  Asia,  we  are  all  as  sure  of  it  as  the  Lord 
Bringas  himself,"  replied  the  three  officials  appealed 
to. 

"We  will  ponder  and  reflect  on  your  advice,"  mur- 
mured the  feeble  sovereign,  now  thoroughly  exhausted 
both  in  body  and  in  mind.  "We  thank  you,  noble  and 
trusty  councillors,  for  your  attendance  upon  us  and 
your  sage  counsels.  In  the  mean  time,  let  the  grand 
marshal  of  our  Eastern  armies  be  summoned  to  the 
Sacred  Palace  that  we  may  confer  with  so  illustrious 
a  chief." 

Nicephorus  Phocas  was  duly  summoned  by  imperial 

5i 


"ERSiTY 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

messenger,  with  the  official  despatch  sealed  with  the 
vermilion  cipher;  but  he  never  saw  his  punctilious 
and  procrastinating  master. 

Constantine  Porphyrogennetus  was  now  dying.  En- 
feebled by  internal  disease,  he  was  exhausted  by 
chronic  fevers,  for  which  his  physicians  prescribed  the 
baths  of  Prusa,  in  Bithynia.  The  medicinal  waters 
rather  aggravated  his  malady,  and  he  turned  from 
earthly  to  spiritual  resources,  visiting  the  monasteries 
around  Mount  Olympus,  carried  in  his  golden  litter 
from  cell  to  cell  while  he  shared  the  watches,  the  ser- 
vices, the  pallet  of  the  most  famous  anchorites,  joining 
in  their  prayers,  hymns,  and  prostrations.  All  was 
in  vain.  He  was  borne  down  to  the  shore  of  the 
Marmora,  whence  the  royal  dromon,  or  galley,  con- 
veyed him  by  an  easy  transport  to  the  Sacred  Palace. 

It  was  a  cold  and  dreary  November  when  the  mighty 
Augustus  was  for  the  last  time  carried  back  to  the 
hieros  koiton,  or  imperial  bedchamber  r  the  magnif- 
icence of  which  seemed  to  mock  the  helplessness  of 
the  sinking  potentate.  The  patriarch  was  summoned 
with  his  acolytes  to  administer  the  last  offices  of  re- 
ligion according  to  the  rites  of  the  Orthodox  Church. 
The  venerable  Augusta  sank  down  exhausted  with 
grief  and  anxiety.  The  princesses  were  gathered  round 
their  father's  couch,  and  Agatha,  the  youngest,  was 
bending  over  him  with  incessant  care  to  smooth  his 
pillow  and  moisten  his  lips.  The  monarch  in  his  ex- 
piring moments  asked  for  his  son.  But  no  son  was 
there.  The  reckless  Romanus  had  gone  off  with  a 
gay  retinue  of  courtiers  to  hunt  in  the  forests  on  the 
Asian  side  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  all  the  messengers 
had  failed  to  meet  him.     The  eunuchs  of  the  royal 

52 


The  Dying  Emperor 

chamber,  the  chief  physician,  and  his  Holiness  the 
Patriarch,  watched  the  last  agony  of  the  sovereign. 
At  a  sign  from  the  physician  who  held  the  pulse  of  the 
dying  man,  the  chief  eunuch  of  the  chamber  closed 
the  eyes  and  covered  the  face  of  the  dead. 

Then,  with  a  loud  voice  which  rang  through  the 
awe-struck  and  silent  chamber,  the  Patriarch  Poly- 
euctus  sprang  from  his  knees,  and,  raising  aloft  the 
crucifix,  he  cried:  "Go  forth  hence,  O  king.  The  King 
of  Kings,  the  Lord  of  Lords,  has  called  thee  to  Him- 
self." 

At  these  thrilling  words  the  Princess  Agatha  shriek- 
ed aloud  and  the  venerable  Augusta  fainted.  The 
other  princesses  flew  to  aid  their  mother:  Zoe,  the 
eldest,  cried  aloud  for  the  ladies-in-waiting  to  carry 
the  Augusta  to  her  own  bedchamber,  the  sacred  apart- 
ment of  the  empress  regnant. 

But  here  the  door  of  that  chamber  was  flung  open, 
and  Theophano  stood  in  the  entrance  like  some  fierce 
and  majestic  fury  presiding  over  a  scene  of  carnage. 
She  was  surrounded  by  her  own  chamberlains,  eunuchs, 
and  ladies  of  honor.  "Bear  not  the  widow  hither,  I 
command  ye.  There  is  no  Augusta  here  but  one — 
and  I  am  your  Basilissa  to-day.  The  chamber  of  the 
empress  is  for  me,  and  I  share  it  with  no  relict  of  the 
dead.  Here,  carry  off  your  late  king  to  prepare  him 
for  the  tomb.  This  sacred  koiton  is  for  my  lord 
Romanus,  second  of  that  auspicious  name,  most  mighty 
and  illustrious  Baselius  of  the  Romans.  In  his  name 
I  charge  ye,  get  ye  all  hence." 

Appalled  by  this  sudden  apparition,  as  if  it  had 
been  some  evil  spirit  issuing  from  the  depths  of  hell, 
and  yet  well  aware  of  all  that  might  be  brought  about 

53 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

by  the  waywardness  of  Romanus  and  the  malice  of 
Theophano,  the  family  and  retinue  of  the  dead  sover- 
eign shrank  away  in  tears  and  groans  beneath  the 
triumphant  smiles  of  the  new  Augusta  and  the  mock- 
ing menaces  of  the  attendants  she  had  brought. 


VI 
The  Coronation 

IT  was  just  daybreak  on  a  bright  morning  of 
the  year  960  a.d.,  near  the  Hebdomon  barracks, 
outside  the  walls  of  Constantinople;  and  a  general 
movement  towards  the  city  could  be  seen  on  the 
shores  of  the  Propontis.  The  sun  was  nearly  risen 
over  the  eastern  hills  and  was  reflected  in  the  smooth 
water  of  that  inland  sea.  The  harbor  and  shore  were 
covered  with  gay  sailing  vessels  and  boats  hurrying 
towards  the  city,  of  which  the  walls  and  towers  were 
some  three  miles  distant.  From  the  circular  castle  of 
Cyclobion,  half  a  mile  nearer  the  city,  were  pouring 
forth  masses  of  troops,  both  horse  and  foot,  which 
were  being  marshalled  in  the  broad  exercising-ground 
that  lay  between  Hebdomon  and  the  city  walls.  At 
this  moment  two  officers  in  resplendent  array,  mounted 
on  light  Arab  chargers  and  followed  by  orderlies  and 
grooms,  issued  from  the  huge  gateway  of  the  fortress 
and  crossed  the  drawbridge  into  the  road  that  led  to 
the  Golden  Gate. 

Both  warriors  wore  the  gilded  cuirasses,  greaves,  and 
armlets  of  the  imperial  guard;  their  long  lances  and 
embossed  shields  were  borne  by  their  attendants.  The 
elder,  a  dark  and  bronzed  Armenian  of  mature  age, 
was  leading  the  way  and  explaining  the  concourse  to 

s        ■  55 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

his  companion,  an  athletic,  fair-haired  youth  from 
Norway.  In  truth,  the  young  and  noble  Eric  had 
been  driven  from  his  home  by  the  conquering  Dane, 
and  had  just  found  his  way  to  friends  among  the 
Varangian  guard  to  take  service  with  the  Byzantine 
Caesar.  His  birth,  reputation,  and  skill  in  arms  had 
gained  him  a  warm  welcome,  and  Bardas  Skleros,  who 
was  one  of  the  veteran  generals  of  the  Eastern  army, 
had  taken  him  into  favor  and  made  him  his  aide-de- 
camp. To-day,  the  long-anticipated  date  fixed  for  the 
consecration  of  the  new  Basileus,  Bardas  had  prom- 
ised the  Norwegian  tyro  to  show  him  the  capital  and 
the  army  which  he  had  just  joined  and  to  introduce 
him  at  court  in  person.  The  young  hero,  to  whom  all 
this  splendor,  pomp,  and  array  were  a  dazzling  novelty, 
strove  hard  not  to  betray  by  a  look  his  wonder  and 
admiration;  while  the  politic  chief  sought  in  every 
way  to  arouse  his  curiosity  and  to  fill  his  rude  mind 
with  a  fitting  awe. 

As  they  rode  past  the  long  ranks  of  troops  waiting 
their  orders  to  join  in  the  procession,  each  company 
and  squadron  in  various  equipments  and  from  different 
nations,  Bardas  was  received  with  salutes  and  cheers 
from  the  men  whom  he  had  often  led  to  battle. 

"These  are  our  Dyrrhachian  Highlanders,"  said  the 
general,  as  they  passed  the  huge  mountaineers  from 
the  Dalmatian  coast  in  their  rough  capotes  and  short 
claymores;  "and  next  to  them  are  companies  from  the 
Peloponnesian  Islands.  Next  come  the  Patzinak  for- 
eigners, who  have  volunteered  for  service  under  our 
standard.  See  those  giants  there:  they  are  Russ,  who, 
dissatisfied  with  their  own  czar,  have  taken  the  oath 
to  our  lord." 

56 


The  Coronation 

"Are  the}7  all  of  different  race,  costume,  weapon," 
said  the  puzzled  lad,  "for  they  seem  to  speak  different 
tongues — not  one  of  which  can  I  understand  or  name?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  Bardas,  "for  the  ceremony  of  to-day 
they  are  purposely  chosen  from  the  various  nations 
which  fill  our  armies.  All  are  Romans,  all  are  sworn 
to  die  for  our  sovereign  and  august  Basileus.  But 
he  never  asks  them  to  forsake  their  own  tongue,  nor 
their  own  accoutrements  and  arms,  nor  any  of  the 
habits  to  which  they  have  been  bred.  Each  company 
has  its  own  chief  and  interpreter,  and  the  word  of 
command  is  given  in  the  speech  they  love." 

"Are  they  not  all  even  worshippers  of  the  Cross?" 
said  the  pious  Eric,  as  he  devoutly  crossed  himself. 
"Are  they  not  so  much  as  baptized?" 

"Caesar,"  said  the  general,  with  a  dry  smile,  "is 
proud  to  know  that  they  serve  him  with  loyal  faith 
to  the  last  breath  of  their  life.  He  knows  that  their 
souls  are  safe  if  they  die  in  his  service,  for  his  service 
is  the  defence  of  the  Church  and  the  Cross.  They 
have  had  their  baptism  of  blood,  and  in  good  time  they 
will  have  their  baptism  of  water.  Besides,"  he  mut- 
tered between  his  teeth,  "since  these  gallant  fellows 
never  converse  with  other  regiments,  they  have  no 
temptation  to  mutiny  or  intrigue.  And  since  many 
of  them  have  no  occasion  to  call  in  a  priest,  they  are 
never  disturbed  in  mind  by  anything  that  happens  in 
Church  or  State." 

"The  soldier  of  Rome,"  said  Bardas,  with  a  keen 
look  into  the  eyes  of  his  young  friend,  "has  nothing 
to  do  with  politicians  or  with  monks.  Discipline,  obe- 
dience, fidelity  make  up  his  whole  duty  to  God  and 
man.     His  religion  is  to  serve  Rome  and  its  divine 

57 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

autocrator!"  Here  a  shout  of  welcome  and  a  crash- 
ing salute  of  more  than  ordinary  vigor  surprised  the 
young  Norwegian,  who  noticed  the  gleam  of  pride 
that  lighted  up  the  general's  face.  "Ay,"  said  Bar- 
das,  "these  are  my  own  Armenians,  the  brigade  I 
raised  in  my  native  mountains.  Did  you  ever  see  more 
likely-looking  men-at-arms?" 

And  now,  as  they  drew  up  near  the  walls,  they  saw 
the  splendid  array  of  the  Varangian  host,  into  which 
Eric  had  just  been  admitted,  with  their  scale  coats  of 
mail  and  their  terrific  battle-axes,  drawn  up  in  line 
around  the  Golden  Gate  of  triumph. 

At  last  the  young  Scandinavian  beheld  that  mighty 
range  of  fortifications  stretching  for  some  three  miles 
from  the  Propontis  to  the  Golden  Horn — those  historic 
walls  of  Constantinople  which  for  a  thousand  years 
defied  the  onslaught  of  a  series  of  invaders.  The  land 
walls  of  the  city  are  still,  even  in  their  abandonment 
and  ruin,  the  most  impressive  monument  of  its  military 
skill  that  the  ancient  world  has  left  us.  In  the  tenth 
century  they  rose  in  three  distinct  lines  of  circumval- 
lation,  with  broad  causeways  between  each  line  and 
in  front  an  immense  moat  more  than  sixty  feet  broad 
and  some  twenty  feet  deep.  Each  of  the  three  lines 
of  ramparts,  which  rose  in  increasing  height,  one  be- 
hind the  other,  was  surmounted  by  battlements,  the 
two  inner  lines  being  strengthened  by  towers,  also 
crowned  with  battlements  and  pierced  with  narrow 
embrasures.  The  towers  of  the  wall  rose  to  a  height 
of  fifty  feet  above  the  outer  peribolos,  or  terrace,  which 
separated  the  second  from  the  outer  wall.  The  last 
defence,  the  huge  inmost  wall,  rose  to  a  height  of  forty 
feet  from  the  broad  terrace  which  separated  it  from 

58 


The   Coronation 

the  middle  wall.  It  had  ninety-six  tremendous  towers 
at  distances  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  apart, 
which  rose  to  a  height  of  sixty  feet  above  the  terrace, 
and  thus  were  about  one  hundred  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  moat.  The  great  inner  wall  was  fifteen  feet 
thick,  faced  with  blocks  of  limestone  on  its  outer  and 
inner  face.  The  entire  transverse  width  of  this  com- 
plicated fortification,  not  counting  the  moat,  from  the 
outer  wall  to  the  inside  of  the  inmost  line,  measured 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  In  height  the 
serried  line  of  towers  rose  to  ninety  feet  above  the 
surrounding  country  and  also  above  the  level  of  the 
city  within. 

The  young  barbarian  could  no  longer  restrain  his 
emotions  of  wonder  and  enthusiasm.  He  reined  in 
his  charger  and  stood  awe-struck  at  the  sight  of  such 
a  fortress;  and,  falling  back  to  his  native  tongue,  mut- 
tered some  broken  exclamations  in  a  mixture  of  creeds 
about  Odin,  Asgard,  Valhalla,  and  the  Mother  of  God. 
The  wily  chief  eyed  his  young  charge  with  inward 
satisfaction. 

"We  shall  have  ample  time  to  study  the  fortifica- 
tions on  some  other  day;  and  you  shall  soon  be  in- 
structed in  all  the  means  of  defence  they  possess. 
Some  day  you  shall  attend  the  rampart  drill,  and  see 
how  the  troops  are  trained  to  rush  along  the  level 
terrace  from  tower  to  tower;  how  the  successive  lines 
of  defence  are  manned;  how,  from  the  battlements 
above,  the  engines  of  war  are  arrayed  which  pour 
bolts,  stones,  molten  lead,  and  our  Greek  fire  on  any 
invader  who  might  be  rash  enough  to  come  within 
their  range." 

Eric  mused  in  silence.     He  had  seen  the  log  stock- 

59 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

ades  of  his  native  land,  and  had  known  them  drenched 
in  blood  and  crackling  with  fire  as  they  fell  before  a 
fierce  attack.  He  had  borne  arms  within  the  circular 
palisades  on  the  Vistula  and  the  Danube,  which  the 
Slavs  and  the  Bulgarians  styled  their  capitals  and 
royal  cities.  He  had  even  been  a  prisoner  in  Kiev, 
the  renowned  city  of  the  Russ,  of  which  the  fame  had 
spread  up  the  Baltic  and  through  the  whole  Scandi- 
navian peninsula.  But  these  were  but  the  fastnesses 
of  savages  compared  with  the  vast  and  scientific  cir- 
cumvallations  which  protected  the  capital  and  palace 
of  the  Caesars. 

"The  rebel  angels  might  as  well  hope  to  scale  the 
heaven  and  throne  of  the  Almighty,"  said  the  chief; 
"but  let  us  hasten  on  to  the  court  and  the  Sacred 
Palace,  for  you  may  expect  to  see  greater  wonders  to- 
day." 

The  horsemen  rode  on  amid  the  tramp  of  various 
troops  advancing  to  take  up  their  positions  in  the  city 
and  crowds  of  country  people  from  the  neighboring 
villages  who  were  hurrying  to  see  the  show.  And  now 
the  chief  pointed  out  to  his  companion  the  beautiful 
Golden  Gate,  outside  of  which  was  posted  a  com- 
pany of  Varangians.  This  noble  monument,  of  which 
we  see  the  ruin  built  up  into  the  Turkish  fort  of  the 
Seven  Towers,  was  a  triumphal  arch  of  the  great 
Theodosius,  but  now  incorporated  in  the  mighty  cir- 
cumvallations  constructed  by  his  grandson.  It  was 
wholly  of  marble,  upheld  by  lofty  classical  columns, 
and  at  this  date  was  still  in  perfect  preservation.  The 
royal  gate  was  reserved  for  the  emperor  and  his  special 
guests,  and,  of  course,  was  now  closed  and  guarded. 
Our  horsemen  passed  into  the  city  through  the  public 

60 


The   Coronation 

gate   that   adjoined,   along  with   the   troops   and  the 
crowd. 

Once  within  the  city,  they  pressed  on  along  the  Via 
Triumphalis,  that  ran  parallel  to  the  sea,  a  course  of 
some  four  miles  to  the  Golden  Palace  and  the  Augus- 
teum.  The  great  street  was  lined  with  palaces,  churches, 
colonnades,  and  public  buildings,  the  windows  and 
balconies  being  festooned  with  draperies  and  colored 
curtains,  and  the  roadway  strewn  with  bright  sand 
and  enlivened  with  flowers  and  wreaths  of  myrtle,  rose- 
mary, and  laurel.  They  hastened  past  the  Forum  of 
Arcadius,  with  its  column,  one  hundred  and  fifty-eight 
feet  high,  surrounded  by  bas-reliefs  of  battle  scenes  in 
imitation  of  the  Column  of  Trajan  at  Rome.  Thence 
they  passed  to  the  Forum  of  Theodosius,  and  so  on 
through  ever-increasing  crowds  to  the  Middle  Street 
(Mese)  and  the  Forum  of  Constantine.  This  splendid 
area,  in  shape  an  ellipse,  surrounded  by  two  tiers  of 
porticos,  with  a  marble  arch  at  either  end,  was 
adorned  with  public  buildings,  monuments,  statues, 
and  crosses;  in  its  centre  the  Porphyry  Column,  which 
still  remains  in  its  ruined  state  in  the  heart  of  the  city. 
In  the  tenth  century  it  was  still  uninjured  and  sur- 
mounted with  the  statue  of  the  venerable  founder  of 
New  Rome.  The  chief  explained  to  the  awe-struck 
viking  the  story  of  this  sacred  symbol ;  and  the  simple 
youth  remained  dumb  with  astonishment  before  such 
signs  of  magnificence  and  power.  As  he  passed  count- 
less palaces,  porticos,  churches,  statues,  and  memorials 
he  was  made  dizzy  with  the  infinite  multitudes  in  the 
crowd ;  and  his  martial  ardor  was  roused  by  the  sight 
of  the  various  troops  of  horse  and  foot  which  occupied 
the  entire  line  and  restrained  the  eagerness  of  the  mob. 

61 


Theophano:  1  he  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

At  the  Forum  of  Constantine  the  two  horsemen 
alighted,  gave  their  chargers  to  the  attendants,  and 
proceeded  on  foot  to  the  Augusteum.  Here  the 
crowds  were  more  dense,  the  adornments  of  the 
streets  more  brilliant,  and  the  array  of  troopers  more 
solid.  At  sight  of  the  chief  and  his  companion,  all 
barriers  were  removed  and  the  military  lines  were 
opened;  and  with  throngs  of  officials,  priests,  and 
nobles  in  gala  attire,  the  general  and  his  aide  strode 
on  till  they  reached  the  great  open  space  south  of 
the  vast  church  and  fronting  the  bronze  gateway  of 
the  Sacred  Palace. 

"This  mighty  fane  before  us,"  said  Bardas  to  his 
friend,  "is  the  Metropolitan  Church  of  the  Divine  Wis- 
dom, built  by  Justinian  the  Great  more  than  four 
hundred  years  ago.  It  outshines  all  temples  of  God 
in  the  world  both  in  size  and  beauty,  as  the  Roman 
Empire  outshines  all  other  states.  These  statues  and 
monuments  in  the  forum  around  are  the  precious 
gifts  of  a  line  of  beneficent  princes.  That  glorious 
equestrian  statue  in  the  centre  of  the  square  is  our 
ever-to-be-venerated  emperor  Justinian  of  immortal 
memory.  And  opposite  is  the  bronze  gateway  that 
leads  into  the  corridors  of  the  Sacred  Palace.  Follow 
me,  my  son,  and  try  to  wear  a  look  of  less  amazement 
and  confusion  at  what  you  see.  I  have  obtained  per- 
mission from  the  parakeimomenos  himself  that  you  shall 
be  in  attendance  on  me  to-day  in  the  palace  and  the 
procession  that  will  shortly  be  formed." 

They  passed  in  at  the  gorgeous  gates  of  gilt  bronze 
amid  salutes  by  the  imperial  guard  and  reverences 
by  the  ushers  addressed  to  the  general,  and  wandered 
at  leisure  from  court  to  court,  along  the  corridors  and 

62 


The  Coronation 

porticos  filled  with  marble  and  bronze  statues, 
adorned  with  mosaic  pictures,  and  now  hung  with 
tapestries  and  Eastern  embroideries.  The  vast  halls 
and  cloisters  were  crowded  with  nobles  and  officials 
in  robes  of  state  and  the  higher  chiefs  of  the  army  in 
their  most  splendid  uniforms  and  jewelled  arms.  Gradu- 
ally they  joined  the  gay  crowd,  as  it  gathered  up  to 
form  the  procession  from  the  sacred  apartments  within. 
At  last,  three  ringing  blasts  from  the  silver  trumpets 
summoned  the  ranks  to  close,  and  the  formal  cere- 
monial of  the  day  began. 

First  came  a  company  of  Varangians — stately  war- 
riors from  the  North — Scandinavians,  Russians,  Saxons, 
with  long  limbs  and  flaxen  or  red  hair — the  imperial 
body-guard,  in  gilt  mail  tunics,  armlets,  and  greaves, 
carrying  the  peculiar  weapon  of  their  country,  the 
huge  battle-axe  surmounted  by  a  sickle-shaped  halberd. 
Then  came  a  group  of  ushers  and  palace  officials  in 
splendid  civil  garb.  Next  followed  the  court  officials  in 
their  due  order  of  precedence — silentiaries,  chamber- 
lains, masters  of  the  robes  and  masters  of  the  horse, 
high  stewards,  court  eunuchs,  and  privy  -  councillors, 
grooms  of  the  chamber,  ana  dispensers  of  the  royal 
largesses,  the  chancellor,  and  the  logothete,  or  min- 
ister of  finance. 

A  fresh  company  of  guards — these  from  the  Eastern 
cavalry — separated  this  part  of  the  procession  from  the 
rest.  Then  came  an  almost  interminable  procession 
of  priests,  each  bearing  huge  wax  tapers,  choristers, 
acolytes,  and  incense  -  bearers,  with  a  long  array  of 
crosses,  ikons,  and  holy  emblems.  The  priests  were  in 
their  bright  robes  of  high  ceremony,  embroidered  copes 
charged  with  long  palls  bearing  the  Greek  cross  on 

6.^ 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

each  fold.  The  choristers  chanted  a  psalm  as  they 
passed  on,  and  the  incense-bearers  swung  their  silver 
censers;  and  as  the  miraculous  ikons  passed  the  privi- 
leged spectators,  by  whom  the  courts  were  lined, 
bowed  to  the  earth  in  reverence  of  each  holy  emblem. 
At  last,  a  fresh  group  of  priests  bore  along  the  true 
cross  of  St.  Helena,  or  rather  the  portion  of  it  en- 
closed in  an  enamelled  and  jewelled  cross  of  solid 
silver,  and  the  miracle-working  rod  of  Moses,  the  girdle 
and  veil  of  the  Mother  of  God,  and  the  portrait  of 
Christ,  "not  made  by  human  hands,"  which  had  been 
vouchsafed  to  men  on  earth.  All  these  were  received 
with  profound  reverences  from  the  spectators  in  their 
stations  as  they  were  borne  along  amid  the  glitter 
of  the  tapers  and  the  perfume  of  incense. 

And  now  came  a  third  group,  headed  by  grooms 
of  the  chamber,  lords  -  in  -  waiting,  and  masters  of 
the  household,  all  in  flowing  robes  of  embroidered 
silk  of  various  color  and  pattern.  At  last  stalked 
by,  the  observed  of  all  beholders,  who  cringed  and 
cowered  before  him,  the  parakeimomenos  himself, 
the  eunuch  Joseph,  the  lord  high  chamberlain  and 
president  of  the  imperial  privy  council,  who  was 
practically  the  real  ruler  of  the  empire.  Then  came 
a  pause  and  a  hush  of  expectation.  And  lastly  there 
advanced,  headed  by  a  further  company  of  guards — 
tawny  mountaineers  from  the  Anatolian  Theme — and 
by  a  band  of  musicians  with  trumpets,  cymbals,  drums, 
and  fifes,  the  new  Basileus  and  Basilissa  themselves. 

Romanus  II.  was  arrayed  in  a  corselet  and  armlets 
of  gold  over  his  purple  tunic,  which  shone  with  jewels 
and  pearls ;  and  from  his  shoulders  hung  the  long  folds 
of  the  imperial  scaramangion.     His  legs  had  already 

64 


The  Coronation 

been  fitted  with  the  quaint  scarlet  boots,  or  leggings, 
which  were  the  ensign  of  an  emperor.  His  scabbard 
was  scarlet,  enamelled  and  jewelled.  He  wore  on  his 
brow  a  fillet  with  precious  amulets,  but  as  yet  no  crown; 
for  the  crown  was  borne  along  beside  him  by  Poly- 
euctus,  the  venerable  patriarch,  supported  and  assisted 
by  the  prelates  of  his  cathedral  in  their  most  gorgeous 
robes  of  office.  Behind  the  Basileus,  in  a  dazzling 
group  of  court  beauties,  ladies-in-waiting,  of  mistresses 
and  ladies  of  the  robes,  came  the  new  Basilissa  her- 
self, in  a  tunic  of  silk  gauze  of  the  hues  of  the  rainbow, 
covered  with  full  robes  of  massive  embroideries  and 
blazing  with  precious  stones,  pearls,  and  pendants. 
Pride,  joy,  hope  beamed  from  the  lovely  countenance 
of  the  empress,  and  was  reflected  as  it  were  in  that  of 
the  emperor.  As  they  passed  slowly  along  the  corri- 
dors, courts,  and  colonnades,  the  privileged  spectators, 
who  lined  them,  broke  forth  at  the  bidding  of  the 
silentiary,  or  usher,  with  fervid  cries  of,  "Many,  many 
happy  years!"  "Holy!  Holy!  Holy!  Glory  to  God 
in  the  highest,  and  peace  on  earth !  To  our  great  Basil- 
eus and  Autocrator  Romanus,  many  years  of  life!" 
And  as  the  empress  passed,  again  they  chanted, 
thrice,  "Long  life  to  our  blessed  Augusta.  Welcome, 
Theophano.  May  God  keep  thee,  most  pious  lady  of 
our  sovereign  lord!"  It  may  be  doubted  if  Romanus 
II.  were  the  most  glorious  emperor  of  his  mighty  line, 
and  yet  more  if  Theophano  were  the  most  pious  of 
royal  princesses;  but  this  is  certain,  that  in  all  that 
concourse  of  brilliant  men  and  lovely  women  in  the 
wonderful  panorama  of  that  crowded  day,  in  all  that 
empire  which  stretched  from  far  Calabria  to  the 
Chersonesus,  from  the  Adriatic  to  the  Caucasus  and 

65 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  Euphrates,  there  could  be  found  no  more  brilliant 
figure  than  that  of  the  young  Romanus,  and  no  such 
dazzling  beauty  as  that  of  the  Greek  Theophano  her- 
self. 

A  space  separated  the  imperial  group  from  the  rest 
of  the  cortege.  Then,  in  gorgeous  robes  of  samite  em- 
broidered in  gold  thread,  advanced  alone  the  huge  form 
of  Basil  the  eunuch,  the  royal  bastard,  now  grand  mas- 
ter of  the  ceremonies.  He  was  followed  by  a  group 
of  general  officers  in  their  most  splendid  uniform  of 
parade.  All  eyes  were  now  turned  upon  the  illustrious 
chief,  who  stalked  on  in  front  of  the  line — the  general- 
issimo of  the  Oriental  armies — the  first  soldier  of  the 
empire. 

"See,  the  hero  comes,"  said  Bardas  Skleros,  in  a 
whisper,  to  Eric,  as  the  adored  chief  turned  a  friendly 
glance  on  his  trusty  comrade  and  a  piercing  look  on 
his  athletic  attendant,  who  now  took  their  places  in 
the  brilliant  group  of  officers  of  the  staff.  Nicephorus 
Phocas,  the  most  eminent  chief  of  a  long  line  of  Ar- 
menian nobles,  the  most  heroic  warrior  of  a  family  of 
famous  men  of  war,  was  now  in  the  flower  of  his 
strength,  at  forty-six  years  of  age.  His  natural  olive 
complexion  had  been  tanned  and  burned  almost  to  a 
dark  hue  in  the  incessant  campaigns  he  had  fought 
since  his  boyhood  amid  the  suns  of  Mesopotamia  and 
the  snowy  passes  of  Cilicia.  He  wore  his  hair  long 
and  flowing,  with  a  crisp  beard  just  beginning  to  be 
tinged  with  gray.  His  nose  was  long  and  aquiline, 
his  eyes  were  dark,  of  an  intense  fire  under  a  penthouse 
of  thick,  black  eyebrows.  Of  middle  height,  he  had 
the  trunk  and  shoulders  of  a  giant,  with  abnormal 
depth   of   chest,   and   the   long,   muscular   arms   with 

06 


The  Coronation 

which  he  had  more  than  once  in  battle  cleft  a  mailed 
enemy  to  the  chine.  His  look  was  stern  and  pensive, 
lighted  up  at  moments,  as  it  were,  with  a  sombre  fire 
within.  He  was  taciturn  and  immovable  by  habit, 
so  that  hardly  a  gesture  or  a  look  ever  betrayed  his 
purpose  or  his  thought.  To-day  he  stalked  on  alone, 
his  mind  far  away  from  the  Sacred  Palace,  with  neither 
comrade  nor  lieutenant  by  his  side;  and  he  just  ac- 
knowledged with  his  hand  the  cheers  and  obeisances 
with  which  he  was  received.  It  was  noticed  that  he 
alone  of  all  that  brilliant  throng  had  chosen  to  attend 
the  procession  in  his  well-worn  tunic  and  his  close 
helm  and  corselet  of  action,  in  the  same  accoutre- 
ments and  arms  in  which  he  was  wont  to  appear  on 
many  a  bloody  field.  And  as  his  scrutiny  fell  on  the 
warlike  figure  of  Eric,  the  young  Scandinavian  felt  a 
thrill  to  the  marrow  of  his  bones;  and  to  his  fantastic 
Northern  imagination  it  seemed  to  him  that  Odin  him- 
self was  searching  him  with  a  look  to  judge  if  the  lad 
were  yet  worthy  to  enter  into  the  Valhalla  of  heroes. 
Slowly  the  immense  procession  passed  on  to  the 
royal  gate,  where  the  emperor  mounted  his  cream- 
colored  charger  of  the  purest  stock  of  Arabia,  richly 
caparisoned  with  jewelled  and  golden  ornaments. 
When  the  Augusteum  was  reached  —  the  forum  in 
front  of  the  palace  bounded  by  St.  Sophia  and  the 
Hippodrome — the  Basileus  was  received  by  an  im- 
mense crowd  of  privileged  and  official  spectators,  who 
again  raised  the  chant  of  "Long,  long  life  and  happy 
years  to  our  Augustus  and  autocrator!"  Here  was 
renewed  the  ancient  ceremony  of  ages,  dating  from 
the  time  when  Caesar  was  the  true  commander-in-chief. 
Romanus  dismounted  and  was  raised  on  an  immense 

67 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

shield,  upborne  by  general  officers,  the  heads  of  the 
senate  and  the  palace,  and  even  nominally  by  the 
patriarch  himself;  and,  amid  volleys  of  cheers — 
"Long  life  and  happy  years!" — from  the  vast  throng 
in  the  porticos  and  terraces  around,  he  was  saluted 
as  Caesar,  even  as  Trajan,  Constantine,  and  Theo- 
dosius  had  been  hailed  by  the  army  as  successors  of 
Julius  and  Augustus. 

This  secular  ceremony  accomplished,  the  Basileus 
and  Basilissa,  with  their  trains,  ascended  the  staircase 
which  led  to  their  place  in  the  Hippodrome.  In  due 
order  they  appeared  in  the  cathisma,  or  raised  balcony, 
at  the  northern  or  straight  end  of  the  vast  circus, 
which  for  hours  had  been  filled  by  an  immense  con- 
course of  citizens.  As  the  imperial  pair,  in  their 
gorgeous  array,  appeared  at  the  rail  in  front  of  their 
lofty  balcony,  the  sight  was  one  that  struck  dumb  the 
raw  Norwegian  halberdier,  and  would  profoundly  im- 
press even  the  most  experienced  sight-seer  of  modern 
times.  On  each  side  of  the  long  Hippodrome  there 
rose,  tier  after  tier  on  the  marble  steps  crowned  with 
open  colonnades,  a  gathering  of  at  least  three  hundred 
thousand  spectators.  In  their  proper  places  were 
seated  the  Factions,  now  organized  and  recognized 
political  clubs.  On  the  city  side  were  seated  in  proper 
uniform  the  Green  Faction,  on  the  sea  side  were  the 
Blues,  and  from  ten  thousand  trained  voices,  at  the 
baton  of  their  leaders  and  at  the  word  of  "Salute!" 
there  broke  forth,  time  after  time,  and  in  answering 
strophe  and  antistrophe,  the  ordained  chant,  "Long 
life  and  happy  years  to  our  Augustus  and  autocrator, 
Romanus" — "Holy!  Holy!  Holy!  to  God  in  the  high- 
est, and  peace  on  earth!"     The  Caesar  descended;  and, 

68 


The  Coronation 

on  this  occasion,  by  special  favor,  as  he  was  proud  of 
his  beauty  and  his  consummate  horsemanship,  Ro- 
manus  rode  in  state  on  his  cream  charger  round  the 
entire  arena.  As  he  passed  each  block  of  the  enor- 
mous throng  he  was  received  with  deafening  cheers  and 
the  eternal  chant  of  "Long  life  and  happy  years!" 
He  was  now  disrobed  from  the  stately  diabetesion  and 
scaramangion,  and  had  chosen  to  exhibit  his  exquisite 
limbs  in  the  uniform  of  a  cataphractic  trooper  in  full 
campaigning  equipment.  And  as  he  careered  round 
the  long  Hippodrome,  curveting  on  his  fiery  Arab,  the 
superstitious  Byzantine  burghers  imagined  that  they 
saw  the  blessed  St.  George  himself. 

When  he  was  returned  to  the  cathisma  aloft  and 
had  taken  his  seat  on  the  throne  which  stood  high  above 
the  gates  whence  the  chariots  started,  the  Basileus 
signed  to  the  parakeimomenos  that  it  was  his  wish 
for  the  games  to  begin.  The  marshals  and  heralds 
now  cleared  the  race-course,  and  four  chariots  of  four 
horses  each  were  shot  forth  from  the  carceres.  The 
race  was  followed  with  shouts,  yells,  and  screams  of 
excitement  by  the  vast  host  in  the  circus.  More  races 
ensued,  and  displays  of  various  strange  beasts  from 
Asia  and  from  Africa:  camels,  elephants,  giraffes, 
ostriches,  and  lions  were  paraded  round  the  ring; 
and  deputations  from  wild  frontier  tribes,  in  strange, 
outlandish  costumes,  advanced  to  pay  reverence  and 
offer  gifts  to  the  Cassar  —  naked  Nubians,  seamen 
from  the  ^Egean  Islands,  vikings  from  the  Baltic, 
Russ  exiles  and  outlaws,  and  hillmen  from  the  Cauca- 
sus in  huge  sheepskins  and  with  bows  and  arrows. 

The  shows  in  the  Hippodrome  were  continued  long 
after  the  Basileus  and  Basilissa  had  left  their  thrones 

69 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

in  the  cathisma.  This  day  of  most  exhausting  cere- 
monies had  yet  to  receive  its  final  and  most  important 
function,  in  the  solemn  consecration  of  the  imperial 
pair  in  the  cathedral  church  by  the  patriarch.  The 
emperor  again  crossed  the  Augusteum  to  the  portal  of 
the  great  church.  He  had  now  been  relieved  of  his 
military  array,  and  had  been  formally  clothed  in  the 
gorgeous  robes  of  imperial  state,  brocaded  with  gold, 
gems,  and  quaint  devices.  At  the  entrance  to  St. 
Sophia  the  Basileus  was  received  by  the  patriarch  and 
all  his  clergy;  and  while  his  steward  of  the  largess 
presented  gifts  to  the  holy  places,  the  emperor,  the 
empress,  and  all  their  principal  attendants  were  sup- 
plied with  lighted  tapers,  with  which  they  entered  the 
narthex.  They  were  conducted  into  the  vestry,  where 
fresh  robings  took  place,  and  even  some  refreshments 
were  offered  to  the  exhausted  princes.  After  a  short 
rest  the  sacred  ordinances  of  the  ceremony  began.  Em- 
peror and  empress,  in  turn,  duly  prostrated  themselves 
before  the  holy  images,  crosses,  and  emblems,  and  de- 
voutly kissed  the  miraculous  ikon.  The  procession  ad- 
vanced to  the  centre  of  the  mighty  dome,  the  choir  chant- 
ting  hymns  and  repeating,  "  Holy !  Holy!  Holy!  Glory 
to  God  in  the  highest  and  peace  on  earth !"  and  the  ushers 
and  prelates  placed  the  royal  personages  on  the  thrones 
prepared  for  them.  The  patriarch  himself,  in  the 
bema,  or  chancel,  within  the  semicircular  apse,  opened 
the  stated  prayers,  and  the  coronation  liturgy  was 
chanted,  the  close  of  each  invocation  being  marked  by 
the  chant  of  the  choristers.  Advancing  from  the 
chancel  to  the  ambon,  the  patriarch  caused  the  gospel 
of  the  day  to  be  read  out,  and  again  he  uttered  the 
prayers  of  the  rubric.     This  ambon  was  a  raised  plat 


The  Coronation 

form  of  colored  marble,  surmounted  by  short  columns 
supporting  a  canopy  of  alabaster  and  mosaic.  It  was 
reached  by  a  flight  of  marble  steps,  both  on  the  eastern 
and  the  western  sides,  and  formed  a  kind  of  stage  be- 
tween the  chancel,  or  apse,  and  the  centre  of  the  great 
dome;  and  it  served  at  once  as  reading  station  and 
stand  for  important  ceremonies.  Hither  the  Basileus 
was  led  by  one  range  of  stairs,  the  patriarch  standing 
at  the  opposite  end  and  the  crown  being  held  beside 
him.  The  crown  itself  was  perfumed  with  incense 
and  blessed  by  the  patriarch  by  placing  his  hands  on 
it.  Then,  summoning  the  emperor  to  his  side,  the 
patriarch  raised  the  crown  aloft  and  solemnly  placed 
it  on  the  head  of  the  Basileus,  crying,  "Holy!  God  in 
Three!  bless  our  august  autocrator  and  Basileus!" 
Then  the  Basilissa  was  led  forth  by  her  attendant 
eunuchs  and  borne  up  into  the  ambon,  where  the  em- 
peror himself  placed  her  crown  on  his  consort's  head. 
They  both  then  were  attended  to  their  thrones  in  front 
of  the  chancel,  and  the  rest  of  the  ceremony  was  con- 
cluded, the  patriarch  having  'now  returned  from  the 
ambon  to  the  bema. 

There  he  celebrated  mass  himself  and  partook  of  the 
elements  in  solemn  form.  Thereupon  the  Basileus  was 
led  into  the  bema  and  stood  beside  the  silver  altar. 
His  crown  is  taken  from  his  head  and  held  by  the  chief 
deacon,  while  the  Basileus  on  his  knees  partakes  of  the 
body  and  blood  of  Christ.  The  patriarch  again  blesses 
him  and  anoints  him  with  holy  oil,  and  cries  over  his 
bowed  head:  "May  the  Lord  be  mindful  of  the  power 
of  thy  kingdom  in  His  universal  kingdom,  now  and 
always,  for  ever  and  ever.  Amen."  Thereupon  the 
emperor  stooped  low  and  thrice  kissed  the  hand   of 

6  71 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  patriarch,  and  remained  in  silent  prayer  amid 
a  breathless  pause.  At  last  the  autocrator  rose  and 
was  led  to  his  throne  beside  the  empress.  And  at 
once  the  choir  burst  forth  with  the  peals  of  the  organ 
and  the  blare  of  silver  trumpets,  and  the  chants  of  the 
choir  in  the  galleries  were  renewed.  The  imperial 
procession  was  reformed.  Hundreds  of  pendent 
chandeliers  held  lighted  candles  and  glass  lamps.  The 
incense  poured  upward  in  wreaths  to  the  saints,  arch- 
angels, and  cherubim  in  the  mosaics  of  the  domesr 
and  amid  a  blaze  of  color  and  the  rustlings  of  a 
thousand  robes  of  silk  and  brocade  the  imperial 
cortege  passed  into  the  open  square.  As  they  issued 
from  the  portal,  a  roar  of  voices  ascended  from  the 
crowd  without,  with  renewed  shouts  of  "Long  life  and 
happy  years  to  Romanus  and  Theophano!  Augustus 
ever  victorious  and  Augusta  beloved  of  the  Mother 
of  God!" 

The  imperial  procession,  with  its  multitude  of  offi- 
cials, soldiers,  eunuchs,,  and  priests,  passed  into  the 
bronze  gates  of  the  palace  amid  infinite  acclamations, 
the  murmur  of  a  vast  mass  of  excited  human  beings, 
and  the  incessant  strains  of  martial  music.  They  pro- 
ceeded to  the  hall  of  the  excubitors,  or  body-guard, 
where  a  banquet  of  three  hundred  guests  was  held. 
The  Basileus  and  Basilissa  themselves  were  conducted, 
with  a  series  of  obeisances  and  forms,  to  the  privy 
chambers  of  the  Sacred  Palace,  where,  after  a  fitting 
rest,  they  supped  in  the  Hall  of  the  Nineteen  Couches 
with  the  patriarch  and  a  few  of  the  highest  officials  of 
the  empire. 


VII 
The  Confession 

THE  young  viking  had  been  dismissed  from  his  at- 
tendance on  General  Bardas;  and,  stunned  as  he 
had  been  by  the  noise  and  marvellous  sights  of  the  day, 
his  senses  reeling  from  the  fumes  of  the  incense  and  his 
eyes  aching  from  the  incessant  panorama  he  had  wit- 
nessed, he  ventured  to  enter  the  great  temple  alone 
that  he  might  recall  his  thoughts  from  the  whirl  in 
which  they  swam.  The  crowd  had  left  the  building; 
a  few  sacristans  here  and  there  were  extinguishing 
the  last  lights;  the  air  within  was  heavy  with  the 
scent  of  flowers  and  incense.  The  young  soldier  raised 
his  eyes  from  the  checkered  floor  to  the  walls  resplen- 
dent with  the  most  magnificent  marbles  cut  from  the 
Eastern  and  African  quarries,  and  thence  to  the  enor- 
mous monoliths  crowned  with  capitals  of  intricate  work 
of  acanthus  and  vine  leaves.  He  little  understood 
the  nature  of  the  mighty  dome  under  which  he  stood ; 
still  less,  how  the  marvellous  pictures  in  gold  and  col- 
ored glass  which  filled  the  vaults  had  been  made.  To 
his  untutored  eye,  the  figures  of  the  archangel  Michael, 
of  the  Mother  of  God,  and  of  the  Saviour  of  Mankind 
seemed  to  him  miraculous  appearances  of  these 
sacred  and  divine  beings  in  their  proper  persons. 
Fainting  under  the  sense  of  superstitious  terror,  ex- 

73 


Theophano:  The   Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

hausted  in  body  and  mind  by  all  the  excitements  of 
the  day,  the  young  Norwegian,  whom  neither  man  nor 
brute  had  ever  dismayed  for  an  instant,  sank  down 
beneath  an  ikon  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  aisle,  and, 
striving  in  vain  to  utter  a  few  coherent  prayers,  he 
bowed  himself  to  earth,  muttering,  "God,  be  merciful 
to  one  of  the  least  of  Thy  servants!" 

How  long  he  remained  in  this  posture  he  never  knew; 
but  when  coherent  thought  returned  to  him  again 
he  saw  by  a  dim  lamp  two  men  in  a  distant  corner  of 
the  aisle:  one  a  priest  in  his  seat  of  confession,  the 
other  a  bronzed  veteran,  wrapped  in  a  long  military 
cloak,  on  his  knees  before  the  man  of  God.  The  priest 
was  a  young  monk  whose  emaciated  face  bore  witness 
to  a  life  of  austere  sacrifice.  The  warrior  bore  the 
look  of  the  illustrious  stratelatos — Nicephorus  Phocas 
— a  look  which  no  man  who  had  ever  seen  it  could 
forget. 

The  young  soldier  was  thunderstruck  to  see  at  such 
a  moment,  in  such  a  place  and  with  such  a  look,  the 
chief  whom  he  believed  to  be  within  the  Sacred  Palace 
in  the  place  of  honor  at  the  coronation  feast.  The 
mighty  general  was  on  his  knees  before  the  monk;  his 
proud  countenance  was  now  wrung  with  remorse  and 
some  dark  purpose  within  his  mind.  To  Eric's  heated 
imagination  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  intruded  on  some 
hallowed  scene,  as  if  he  were  watching  his  Saviour  in 
the  Garden  of  Gethsemane  awaiting  his  hour  of  passion. 
The  guardsman  stole  away  in  the  gloom  of  the  side 
aisles,  muttering  prayers  to  all  the  saints  whose  names 
and  offices  he  knew  or  could  remember. 

A  severe  struggle  was,  indeed,  passing  between  the 
anchorite  and  the  general — a  critical  moment  in  the 

74 


UNIVER 

The   Confession 

life  of  the  mighty  commander  of  the  Eastern  armies. 
The  monk,  Abraham,  had  been  made  known  to  Ni- 
cephorus  by  his  venerated  uncle,  Maleinos.  The  monk 
was  now  known  as  Athanasius.  His  eloquence,  zeal, 
and  saintly  character  had  deeply  impressed  Niceph- 
orus,  who  held  him  in  profound  veneration.  This  monk 
was  the  sole  confessor  of  the  general. 

"Holy  father,"  he  was  saying,  in  a  hoarse  whisper, 
"I  have  lived  from  youth  upward  as  a  man  of  war,  to 
which  I  was  bred  by  my  father  and  my  grandfather 
of  noble  memory;  and,  if  I  have  done  deeds  of  blood, 
it  was  in  obedience  to  the  orders  of  my  commanders 
and  of  our  lord  the  Basileus.  But  Christ  has  said  that 
they  who  take  up  the  sword  shall  perish  by  the  sword. 
I  have  always  hoped  to  die  in  some  glorious  field,  my 
sword  red  with  the  blood  of  followers  of  the  False 
Prophet.  But  now  I,  who  never  feared  mortal  men, 
tremble  to  think  of  myself  as  standing  at  the  judgment- 
seat  of  a  God  of  love  and  mercy.  I  feel  at  last — too 
late,  alas! — how  a  life  such  as  mine  has  dishonored  the 
gospel  of  Christ.  And  if  He  spare  me  a  few  years 
longer,  they  will  be  too  short  to  wipe  out  my  sins  by 
penance  and  groans  and  the  solitary  life  of  a  hermit. 
Father,  I  have  come  to  ask  from  thee  a  blessing,  and  thy 
good  word  to  the  monks  of  St.  Demetrius  on  Olympus, 
whither  I  am  about  to  withdraw  forever  to  a  cell." 

"My  son,"  replied  the  monk,  "if  God  has  given  thee 
success  as  a  soldier,  it  was  to  serve  some  wise  purpose 
of  His  own.  Thou  hast  neither  that  humility  nor  that  pa- 
tience which  it  becomes  an  eremite  to  possess,  and  with- 
out which  all  penances  and  prayers  are  in  vain.  Thou 
art  too  old  to  learn  our  hard  and  cheerless  way  of  life. 
Thou  hast  no  experience  of  the  raptures  of  the  soul 

75 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

when  it  communes  with  the  beings  above  in  glory. 
Thou  art  not  the  stuff  of  which  saints  are  made  or  with 
which  the  saints  can  hold  converse." 

"Ask  my  troopers,"  said  the  hero,  proudly,  "if  I 
have  not  lived  a  life  as  hard  as  any  hermit  of  Mount 
Athos!" 

"And  of  humility  and  peace  and  meditation  such 
as  theirs?"  said  the  monk,  with  a  gentle  sadness  that 
entirely  covered  the  sarcasm  of  his  question. 

' '  Show  me  how  I  can  humble  myself  more  than  I 
do  at  this  hour,  at  the  feet  of  thee  and  of  Christ.  It  is 
peace  that  I  ask.  And  as  to  meditation — how  often 
in  the  watches  of  the  night,  in  the  tented  field,  have  I 
lain  awake  seeking  the  Lord  and  His  blessed  saints, 
till  I  had  a  vision  of  the  Babe  smiling  in  His  mother's 
arms,  and  I  knew  by  that  sign  that  in  the  morning  I 
should  win  a  new  fight  for  the  Cross." 

"Ay,  Christ  means  thee  to  win  yet  other  fights  in 
His  name,  for  the  peril  of  the  Cross  was  never  greater 
than  it  is  now.  But  how  comest  thou  to  be  here  at 
this  hour?  Will  not  the  Basileus  and  his  courtiers 
mark  thy  absence  from  the  feast  and. accuse  thee  of 
treason  against  the  throne?" 

"Does  Nicephorus  Phocas  care  for  the  yelping  of 
these  parasites  and  eunuchs?  Is  he  anything  to-day 
to  the  Basileus  himself  or  to  the  crowds  in  the  Golden 
Palace?  Can  you  think  that  the  Basileus  is  troubled 
at  his  absence — ay— or  the— the— the  he-women  or 
the  she-men  who  prowl  about  the  imperial  koiton?" 
he  added  at  last,  after  a  broken  sentence  wherein 
he  seemed  to  choke  down  some  words  that  rose  to  his 
lips. 

"  I  know  of  many  she-men  in  that  court,  but  of  only 
76 


The  Confession 

one  he-woman,"  said  the  subtle  priest,  suddenly  catch- 
ing at  a  new  thought  and  casting  on  the  soldier  a 
piercing  glance.  "What!  Has  the  proud  Basilissa 
dared  to  affront  the  first  soldier  of  the  empire  and 
maddened  him  to  forswear  the  service  of  his  Majesty 
in  his  wrath?  I  thought  a  Phocas  was  of  too  stern  a 
mould  to  be  goaded  or  turned  from  his  duty  by  the 
insolence  of  a  spoiled  beauty!" 

"Father,  it  is  done.  And  neither  man  nor  woman 
in  the  court  will  miss  Nicephorus  or  wonder  at  his  ab- 
sence. I  have  sent  a  trusted  messenger  to  the  lord 
high  chamberlain  to  beg  from  his  Sacred  Majesty 
permission  to  retire  from  all  my  offices  and  leave  to 
enter  a  hermitage.  And  his  lord  high  eunuchship  will 
take  good  care  that  his  Majesty  grants  my  prayer. 
That  is  how  I  come  to  be  here.  My  sovereign  lord 
Romanus  will  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  his  gloomy  com- 
mander-in-chief, and  our  sovereign  lady  Theophano 
will  jest  about  the  surly  monster  in  the  blood-stained 
tunic  as  she  is  unrobing  with  her  maids  of  honor;  and 
she  will  finish  the  epigram  she  was  beginning  to-day." 

"What!     Did  she  address  thee  in  public?" 

"She  beckoned  me  towards  her  side  as  the  proces- 
sion was  forming,  and  called  out,  so  loud  that  the  wife 
of  Lord  Demetrius  and  others  could  hear,  'Wear  not 
so  gloomy  a  countenance,  for  my  sake,  lord  com- 
mander of  the  eastern  themes,  or  our  loyal  Byzan- 
tines will  fly  from  the  sight  of  thee,  as  they  say  the 
Hagarenes  so  often  fly  when  thy  plume  is  to  the  front ! ' 
These  were  her  very  words — I  hear  them  ringing  in 
my  ears;  and  then  she  smiled  on  me  the  smile  that 
no  man  forgets." 

"  And  is  it  possible  that  the  '  Terror  of  the  Hagarene,' 
77 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

as  they  truly  name  thee,  will  suffer  the  idle  word  of  a 
woman  to  turn  his  life,  to  break  the  keenest  sword 
in  Christendom,  if  not  to  put  in  peril  this  empire  of 
Rome  and  of  Christ?" 

"Father,  I  tell  thee  it  is  done.  My  life  as  a  layman 
is  ended.  My  surrender  of  office  is  already  in  the 
hands  of  our  autocrator.  I  am  no  longer  a  soldier. 
I  am  a  postulant  for  the  holy  life — in  what  remains  to 
me  on  this  earth,"  he  muttered,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"Nicephorus,  my  son  in  God,"  said  the  monk,  with 
solemnity  that  was  almost  stern,  "thou  art  hiding  the 
truth  from  thy  father-confessor.  To  mislead  the  priest 
in  confession  is  to  seek  to  mislead  God  Himself.  And 
He  who  reads  all  thoughts  and  sees  to  the  heart  of  man 
will  surely  avenge  the  insult  to  His  servant  who  is 
betrayed  in  his  holy  office.  Nicephorus,  I  charge  thee, 
in  the  name  of  the  Mother  of  God,  hide  not  the  truth 
from  me  as  thou  canst  not  hide  it  from  God!  Thou 
art  bewitched  by  a  woman !  Who  has  seduced  thee  to 
sin?" 

"Father,  as  I  live  by  bread,  I  have  never  sinned 
with  woman,  nor  has  woman  ever  sinned  with  me! 
My  sins,  as  God  knoweth,  are  sins  of  violence  and 
wrath  and  blood  and  pride ;  but  of  love  never,  of  lust 
of  the  flesh  nothing,  ay,  of  self-indulgence,  I  may  say 
without  a  boast,  not  an  hour  since  I  first  grew  a  beard. 
Monk,  I  tell  thee  that  of  woman  I  am  as  pure  as  thou — 
ay,"  he  added,  with  a  bitter  word,  "much  more 
worthy  of  the  crown  of  virginity  than  are  many  monks 
of  East  and  of  West." 

"Nicephorus  Phocas,  palter  not  with  words  in  this 
sacred  office,"  rejoined  the  monk,  now  rising  to  stern 
authority  in  exercise  of  his  divine  mandate,  and  ad- 

78 


The  Confession 

dressing  the  great  soldier  with  such  power  as  he  him- 
self was  wont  to  use  in  giving  his  orders  on  the  field.  "I 
said  thou  art  bewitched  by  a  woman.  Again  I  ask 
thee  in  confession,  what  woman  has  bewitched  thee 
so  to  change  thy  life?" 

The  chief  answered  not  a  word;  but  he  sank  down 
flat  on  the  marble  pavement,  and  lay  prostrate,  writh- 
ing in  agony  and  shame  and  despair,  his  huge  limbs 
convulsed  and  his  powerful  hands  clinched  in  his  pas- 
sion. A  long  silence  ensued,  hardly  broken  by  the 
sobs  and  groans  of  the  chief,  as  his  frame  was  shaken 
with  a  tumult  of  emotions. 

"God  gives  me  no  right  to  grant  His  absolution  till 
the  truth  is  confessed  and  penance  is  prescribed,"  said 
the  monk  at  last,  in  measured  and  solemn  tones,  and 
he  waited  till  the  storm  of  feeling  had  grown  calm. 

"Holy  father,"  said  the  chief  at  last,  rising  from 
the  pavement  but  still  on  his  knees,  his  head  bowed 
down  and  his  hands  clasped  under  him,  speaking  in 
a  low  and  broken  voice,  "my  sin  is  in  thought,  as  yet 
known  only  to  God  and  to  my  heart.  I  have  done  no 
act  of  wrong.  I  will  do  no  act  of  wrong.  But  I  am 
consumed  with  a  fire  within  me,  and  I  must  be  far 
away  from  this  city  of  sin — this  palace  of  folly  and 
lust  and  vanity — this  pandemonium  of  eunuchs,  pimps, 
and  panders.  I  must  flee  from  this  woman — this  new 
Theodora — this  second  Irene.  The  thought  of  her 
haunts  me  day  and  night.  When  she  first  began  to 
mock  the  battered  warrior,  whose  grisly  boar's  head, 
she  said,  might  well  be  used  to  frighten  the  Hagarene 
babies  when  they  whined,  a  thrill  went  through  me 
— no!  not  of  pain  or  anger — no!  not  of  shame — no! 
rather   of    pleasure.     I    found  myself  waiting  in   the 

79 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

portico  where  she  would  take  the  air  with  her  girls 
and  creatures,  and  she  would  pinch  my  rough  cheek 
and  call  me  Vulcan,  looking  herself,  indeed,  the  God- 
dess of  Beauty,  as  fabled  by  those  pagan  poets  that 
the  courtiers  still  love  to  recite." 

"Well,  why  this  to  me?"  broke  in  the  monk,  in  mani- 
fest disgust.  "What  matters  all  this  to  thee  or  to  me? 
Quit  this  city  of  folly  and  sin,  and  be  off  hence  to  thy 
command  in  the  marches  of  Taurus,  to  stop  the  ravages 
of  the  Hagarenes  who  threaten  the  people  of  Christ." 

"Thou  hast  not  heard  all,  holy  father,  or  I  should 
not  now  be  here  and  on  my  knees.  I  tell  thee  the 
woman  has  seen  her  power.  These  subtle  daughters  of 
Eve  know  by  instinct  when  the  sons  of  Adam  begin 
to  feel  weak.  The  flashing  rays  from  those  eyes  burn 
me.  They  pierce  my  eyes  with  fiery  points,  as  it  were 
when  some  royal  traitor  is  blinded  by  red-hot  needles. 
She  smiles  triumphant  when  she  sees  me  quiver,  and, 
woman-like,  she  loves  to  see  me  quiver  again  before 
her." 

"Leave  her,  and  begone  to  the  East,"  broke  in  the 
priest,  with  no  little  impatience  and  contempt  in  his 
voice. 

"That  I  cannot  do  while  I  remain  an  imperial  officer 
of  state.  She  has  her  purposes:  she  means  to  make 
me  her  creature,  her  tool,  her  lover — her — I  know 
not  how — I  know  not  what  is  in  her  thought.  She 
despises  her  own  lord;  she  tempts  him  to  wallow 
further  in  the  mire  of  his  harlots,  eunuchs,  and  cata- 
mites. She  has  great  designs  and  aspiring  thoughts. 
She  needs  a  commander  who  has  the  trust  of  our 
troops.  Father,  I  tell  thee,  she  has  need  of  me;  and 
I  burn  for  her.     She  knows  her  power  and  my  shame." 

80 


The  Confession 

A  long  pause  followed,  and  neither  spoke.  The 
monk  meditated  in  silence.     At  last  he  spoke. 

"Nicephorus  Phocas,  it  cuts  me  to  the  heart  to  hear 
a  warrior  of  high  renown  confess  to  being  tempted  into 
the  toils  of  a  woman  such  as  this.  I  judge  it  to  be  a 
passing  madness,  which  distance  and  thy  own  great 
duties  and  labors  alone  can  cure.  The  monks  of  St. 
Demetrius  shall  not  be  poisoned  by  the  presence 
among  them  of  thy  fevered  soul.  Thou  art  not  fit  in 
the  sight  of  God  and  His  Mother  for  the  spiritual  life; 
thou  art  sorely  needed  by  God  and  His  Son  for  the 
martial  life.  Rome  and  Christ  can  be  saved  from 
Mohammed  only  by  thee.  Thou  hast  sinned  against 
Christ  and  His  Virgin  Mother  by  idly  toying  with  the 
imperial  temptress.  See  her  no  more,  but  hasten  to 
thy  post  in  the  Anatolian  Mountains.  There,  in  thy 
lonely  tent,  pray  nightly  to  the  immaculate  one  for 
her  blessing  and  pass  the  day  in  the  saddle  among  the 
scattered  outposts  of  thy  menaced  command.  On  this 
condition  alone  can  I  give  thee  absolution  for  thy  sin — - 
sin  as  black  in  the  sight  of  Christ  and  His  Mother  as  if 
thou  hadst  been  taken  in  open  adultery  and  dragged 
to  execution  as  a  traitor.  Accept  this  penance,  or 
remain  unanealed  in  thy  sin  and  thy  shame!" 

The  silence  lasted  for  a  space,  till  it  grew  acutely 
painful  to  both.  With  groans  and  tears  and  writh- 
ings,  the  chief  at  last  uttered  the  fatal  words,  "I  obey 
the  Holy  Mother  Church!" 

Then  the  monk  rose  to  his  full  height;  and,  with  a 
look  of  triumphant  authority  and  a  voice  of  thrilling 
power,  as  he  placed  his  long,  thin,  emaciated  hands 
on  the  bare  head  of  the  chief,  he  said:  "Christ  absolves 
thee    from    thy  sin,   and    accepts   thy  obedience  and 

81 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century- 
service.  Pass  to  thy  appointed  command,  and  do  thy 
duty  as  a  soldier  of  Rome  and  of  Christ.  I  purge  thee 
of  thy  sins  in  the  name  of  the  Trinity  and  of  the 
Mother  of  God,  into  whose  holy  keeping  I  now  commit 
thee!  Nicephorus  Phocas,  go  in  peace,  and  may  God 
be  with  thee!" 

"I  go,"  murmured  the  chief,  exhausted  by  his  long 
agony  and  strife ;  "  I  go  to  my  ruin — to  my  shame — to 
my  death." 


VIII 
The  Sacred  Palace 

THE  gay  and  luxurious  young  Basileus  was  no 
sooner  installed  on  his  father's  throne  than  he  re- 
doubled the  riot  and  debauchery  that  had  been  kept 
in  restraint — or,  at  least,  in  concealment — by  Constan- 
tine  Born-in-the-Purple.  Romanus,  who  had  been 
born  in  the  purple  himself,  whose  legitimacy  as  Au- 
gustus could  not  be  disputed,  while  his  personal  popu- 
larity as  a  gallant  and  gracious  prince  was  renowned 
far  and  wide,  saw  not  the  slightest  reason  to  curb  or  to 
restrain  his  excesses.  He  replaced  most  of  the  aged 
and  trusty  counsellors  of  his  father  with  parasites  and 
favorites  of  his  own;  and  the  revels  and  buffooneries 
to  which  he  gave  himself  reminded  the  serious  of  the 
orgies  of  Elagabalus  or  Michael  the  Drunkard.  Wres- 
tlers from  Cappadocia,  singers  and  lutists  from  the 
Lesbian  theatres,  boys  who  might  have  stood  as 
models  for  the  Apollino  of  the  Vatican  or  the  Her- 
maphrodite of  the  Louvre,  lounged  about  the  koiton  of 
the  Basileus  of  New  Rome.  The  Basilissa  was  not 
much  seen  in  those  sacred  precincts;  for  she  troubled 
herself  as  little  about  the  Basileus  and  his  amusements 
as  he  did  about  her  and  hers.  Indeed,  women  were 
no  longer  welcomed  in  the  harem  of  the  voluptuous 
Romanus.     Theophano  had  her  own  court,  her  privy 

S3 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

purse,  her  favorites,  her  eunuchs,  her  guards — and  her 
own  schemes. 

A  week  hardly  passed  since  the  coronation  cere- 
monies when  Romanus,  who  had  prolonged  his  feast 
late  into  the  waning  day,  was  surrounded  by  his 
creatures  and  his  scandalous  favorites,  led  on  by 
Chaerina,  a  disfrocked  prelate,  and  now  his  coryphaeus 
of  the  hermaphrodites.  He  had  just  listened  to  a 
fescennine  song  by  his  favorite  buffoon,  at  which  the 
parasites  sought  to  surpass  the  applause  of  the  Caesar, 
when,  in  the  midst  of  a  posture-dance  by  one  of  his 
young  athletes,  the  parakeimomenos  sent  his  secretary 
to  beg  for  an  audience  with  the  Basileus. 

"Bring  him  in!"  cried  Romanus,  jovially;  "if  his 
Eminence  will  promise  not  to  scold.  I  am  never  too 
busy  to  see  my  invaluable  Nestor  and  fidus  Achates. 
And  so  begone,  all  of  ye!  satyrs,  fauns,  and  young 
devils  who  would  make  a  sinner  of  St.  Peter  himself." 

Romanus,  debauched  as  he  was,  was  neither  a  fool 
nor  an  utter  fribble;  and  he  thoroughly  understood 
that  if  he  was  to  enjoy  his  pleasures  and  his  popularity, 
he  must  place  the  government  of  the  empire  in  able 
hands.  Accordingly,  he  had  given  his  confidence  to 
the  lord  high  chamberlain,  the  eunuch  Joseph  Brin- 
gas,  whom  he  created  anew  the  president  of  the 
privy  council  and  of  the  senate.  Joseph,  indeed,  was 
a  statesman  of  consummate  ability  and  vast  expe- 
rience. Eunuch  as  he  was,  he  had  courage,  energy, 
caution,  and  profound  knowledge  of  men  and  of  things. 
It  had  long  been  the  tradition  of  the  empire  to  intrust 
the  ultimate  seals  of  office  and  the  most  important 
arcana  of  state  to  men  who,  either  by  their  sacerdotal 
rank  or  the  cruel  ambition  of  their  parents  and  sov- 

84 


The  Sacred   Palace 

ereigns,  were  incapable  of  succeeding  to  the  purple 
themselves.  Men  so  prepared  from  infancy  for  con- 
fidential employment  about  the  cabinet  and  bed- 
chambers of  Basileus  and  Basilissa  were  in  no  way 
disparaged  thereby,  but  held  an  honorable  rank  almost 
analogous  to  that  of  dukes  in  modern  times.  Joseph 
was  as  well  qualified  to  direct  the  fortunes  of  the 
empire  as  any  one  of  the  many  millions  within  it ;  and 
Romanus  well  knew  his  value  —  how  much  his  own 
peace,  good  name,  perhaps  his  throne  and  his  life,  de- 
pended on  the  brain  and  will  of  such  a  statesman. 

After  the  ceremonious  reverences  by  the  parakei- 
momenos  on  entering  the  august  presence — reverences 
which  the  good  -  natured  Basileus  cut  short  with  a 
pleasant  welcome,  "What  brings  ye  here,  my  lord, 
with  so  gloomy  a  look — at  so  unreasonable  a  season — 
to  disturb  our  peace?" 

"  I  have  grave  news  from  Miletus,  most  august  sover- 
eign, which  I  cannot  keep  from  your  royal  wisdom 
for  an  hour.  An  infidel  fleet  has  eluded  our  guard- 
ships  off  Cnidus  and  Naxos,  has  swept  up  the  ^Egean, 
and  has  stormed  and  sacked  the  city  of  Miletus  with 
horrible  outrages  of  blood  and  lust.  They  have  carried 
away  ten  thousand  girls  and  youths  into  captivity, 
after  massacring' their  parents." 

"From  whence  do  they  come,  these  children  of 
wrath ;  and  how  are  we  to  find  them  if  they  have  made 
good  their  escape?" 

"They  come  from  the  island  of  Crete,  which  they 
first  overran  in  the  disturbed  time  of  your  royal 
predecessor,  Michael  the  Stammerer,  long  before  the 
august  dynasty  of  Basil  had  mounted  the  throne. 
There,  generation  after  generation,  they  have  estab- 

85 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

lished  their  power,  harassing  the  Christian  people  and 
forming  almost  impregnable  fortresses  and  arsenals. 
They  issue  thence  from  its  hundred  ports,  as  you 
must  remember,  time  after  time,  sweeping  the  ^Egean 
Sea  up  to  the  very  gates  of  the  Hellespont.  You  have 
heard  of  the  terrible  sack  of  Thessalonica  in  the  age  of 
your  royal  grandfather,  Leo  the  Learned.  And  you 
must  remember  the  incessant  efforts  in  the  late  reign, 
and  finally  the  disastrous  expedition  of  Gongyles  which 
cut  your  father's  royal  heart  to  its  core,  and  doubtless 
shortened  his  life.  The  very  existence  of  this  haunt 
of  infidels  and  pirates  is  a  menace  to  the  empire,  and 
drains  its  life-blood,  its  children,  and  its  wealth.  Our 
harried  people,  plundered  and  decimated,  cannot  pay 
the  taxes  due  from  them,  and  the  finances  of  your 
Majesty  are  distressed.  There  is  just  arrived  at  the 
capital  a  young  son  of  the  late  governor  of  the  Samian 
Theme,  who  has  escaped  from  captivity,  when  the 
flourishing  town  of  Miletus  was  stormed  and  laid  in 
ruins.  He  saw  his  gallant  father  murdered  and  tort- 
ured his  mother  defiled  and  murdered  by  these  Haga- 
rene  demons,  and  his  sisters  carried  off  with  himself  to 
their  harems  in  Candax,  their  stronghold  in  the  island. 
The  lad  was  preserved  by  his  rare  beauty  for  these 
monsters;  and  I  crave  your  Majesty's  grace  to  admit 
him  to  your  presence,  that  you  may  hear  from  the 
lips  of  an  eye-witness  the  horrors  and  the  desolation 
to  which  the  most  loyal  and  industrious  of  your  Maj- 
esty's servants  are  subject." 

"My  excellent  friend  and  sweet  counsellor,  could 
not  this  affair  of  state  be  submitted  to  the  wisdom  of 
our  privy  council  to-morrow— or,  indeed,  at  its  next 
meeting — and  perhaps  with  previous  inquiry  into  the 

86 


The  Sacred  Palace 

facts  and  conditions?  And  yet — well!  if  the  lad  be 
noble,  and  the  Antinous  you  describe  (and,  by  St. 
Sebastian,  these  Paynims  have  a  pretty  taste  in  boys!), 
why,  I  might  see  him  at  once — if  he  be  within  our 
palace  and  presentable  at  this  hour." 

With  this  consent,  the  politic  minister  introduced 
to  the  presence  of  his  sovereign  the  poor  lad,  who  was 
encouraged  to  tell  his  horrible  story  and  the  sufferings 
of  his  family.  He  was,  indeed,  a  youth  of  rare  beauty 
and  winning  artlessness  of  manner.  He  still  wore  the 
girl's  dress  in  which  he  had  made  his  escape  from  the 
Saracen  harem.  After  battling  for  days  in  an  open 
boat  in  which  he  sailed  forth  at  night  alone,  he  had 
been  fortunately  picked  up  by  a  trading-vessel  that 
brought  him  into  Greek  waters.  The  slight  robe  he 
wore  had  been  almost  torn  in  rags  from  his  graceful 
limbs,  and  sufficed  to  show  that  it  was  no  girl,  but  a 
stripling  of  the  finest  Ionic  type.  The  terrible  life  that 
he  had  passed  of  late  had  given  him  an  energy  and 
seriousness  beyond  his  years.  He  spoke  with  elo- 
quence, fire,  and  not  a  few  sobs  and  tears  as  he  told 
his  awful  tale.  The  voluptuous  Basileus,  whose  thirst 
for  adventure  equalled  his  enjoyment  of  beauty,  fixed 
his  eyes  on  the  lad,  graciously  encouraged  him  to 
speak,  and  listened  with  open  ears  to  the  thrilling  and 
piteous  tale. 

Young  Glaucus  told  how  peaceful  and  happy  the 
town  of  Miletus  seemed  one  bright  Sunday  morning, 
when  the  churches  were  full  and  the  streets  were 
thronged  with  gay  crowds.  No  one  was  alarmed 
when  a  fleet  of  dromons  was  observed  in  the  offing, 
treacherously  hung  with  the  imperial  ensigns. 

Suddenly  a  startling  cry  ran  through  the  city  when 
7  87 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

it  was  discovered  that  the  ships  were  not  from  the 
imperial  fleet,  but  were  Saracen  rovers  filled  with 
armed  pirates.  The  boy  described  the  gallant  fight 
made  by  his  father,  who  manned  the  walls  with  all  the 
available  fighting  men — the  furious  assault  by  engines 
and  missiles  of  the  enemy — and  their  ultimate  entrance 
by  an  unguarded  postern.  Once  in  possession  of  the 
arsenal,  the  town  was  given  over  to  fire  and  sword. 
The  youth  wept  as  he  told  of  the  horrid  fate  of  his 
father  and  his  mother,  how  all  that  was  valuable  and 
precious  was  torn  out  of  the  houses,  how  the  streets 
ran  with  blood,  how  churches  had  been  burned,  and 
thousands  of  citizens  who  had  fled  to  them  for  refuge 
perished  in  the  flames.  For  three  days  and  nights 
massacres  continued,  the  booty  was  gathered  in  the 
holds  of  the  ships,  and  a  city  of  fifty  thousand  inhabi- 
tants had  been  laid  desolate.  Ten  thousand  virgins, 
young  women,  and  lads  of  tender  age,  among  them 
nuns  torn  from  their  sacred  monasteries  with  the  chil- 
dren they  had  gathered  round  them,  were  collected  in 
the  market-place,  stripped,  inspected,  catalogued  like 
cattle  at  a  fair,  and  finally  put  up  to  public  auction 
and  sold  to  the  highest  bidders,  a  portion  both  of  the 
fairest  virgins  and  youths  being  reserved  for  the  com- 
manders and  chiefs. 

The  Basileus,  to  whom  the  more  personal  and  thrill- 
ing part  of  Glaucus's  narrative  was  as  fascinating  as  a 
romance,  put  many  questions  to  the  youth  as  to  all 
his  adventures  and  experiences,  when  the  politic  min- 
ister seized  the  first  opportunity  to  dismiss  the  lad 
that  he  might  impress  the  imperial  mind  with  the  need 
of  action. 

"My  sovereign  lord,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "the  truth 
88 


The  Sacred  Palace 

is  this — that  a  flourishing  city,  the  centre  of  a  most 
industrious  province,  is  blotted  out  from  thy  royal 
dominions;  its  population  is  destroyed  or  dispersed; 
panic  is  spread  through  the  islands  and  seaboard  of  the 
y£gean  Sea,  and  a  revenue  of  fifty  thousand  pieces  of 
gold  is  lost  to  the  imperial  treasury.  The  capital  itself 
is  hardly  safe;  nor  can  I  or  any  servant  of  thy  throne 
answer  for  its  stability  while  this  cancer  is  consuming 
the  vitals  of  the  empire." 

"You  desire,  then,  most  resourceful  of  counsellors, 
to  increase  the  strength  and  alertness  of  our  fleet  in  the 
southern  waters.  Well,  be  it  so.  Double  the  fleet  at 
Halicarnassus  and  Cnidus,  station  a  second  fleet  at 
Cythera,  and  let  both  be  provided  with  a  new  squadron 
of  cruisers.  Oh,  best  of  all  parakeimomenoi,  thou 
shalt  have  an  order  for  their  cost,  though  I  may  not 
buy  myself  a  new  Arabian  charger  nor  a  Lydian  singer 
for  the  next  six  months.  My  empire  shall  come  first, 
my  lord  high  chamberlain,  as  I  am  Roman  by  name 
and  in  soul!" 

"We  know  the  glorious  spirit  that  animates  the 
heroic  line  of  Basil,  Leo,  and  Constantine,"  broke  in 
the  wily  eunuch,  "but  the  need  of  the  hour  is  far 
more  serious  than  your  Majesty  conceives.  The  story 
brought  by  this  eye-witness  of  the  latest  disaster, 
which  has  just  been  so  vividly  told  to  your  grace, 
makes  it  clear  that  no  vigilance  or  force  in  the  fleet 
can  restrain  the  audacity  of  these  Saracens,  so  long  as 
they  can  issue  at  will  from  their  arsenals  in  Crete,  and 
can  in  a  night's  voyage  betake  themselves  to  this  secure 
stronghold  after  every  raid  on  our  coasts.  After  Crete 
is  again  our  own,  we  shall  restore  to  Rome  all  that  the 
Hagarene  has  wrested  from  thy  royal  ancestors.     Most 

89 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century- 
gracious  Lord  Basileus,  thy  throne  is  in  peril  while 
Crete  is  in  the  power  of  the  False  Prophet  and  his  un- 
believing crews  of  pirates.  Crete  must  be  Caesar's, 
or  Constantinople  will  not  remain  his  own  forever!" 

"Crete,  Crete!  most  inconsistent  of  lord  privy  coun- 
cillors, have  you  not  told  me  even  to-day  that  Crete 
is  impregnable  to  our  forces  by  land  or  by  sea;  and  is 
not  that  the  answer  which  I  and  my  father  continually 
have  received  when  we  insisted  on  having  it  conquered 
by  our  arms?" 

"  By  our  forces  as  now  or  lately  they  have  been  or- 
ganized, Crete  was  and  is  practically  impregnable;  nay, 
it  would  be  madness  to  attempt  its  reconquest  by 
any  forces  that  your  Majesty  now  has  on  foot.  But 
by  an  adequate  force,  by  an  irresistible  fleet  and  an 
invincible  army,  such  as  the  empire  can  yet  equip, 
Crete  can  be,  shall  be,  retaken.  Nothing  is  impreg- 
nable that  Rome  and  Caesar  resolve  to  subdue!" 

"And  thou  hast  just  told  me,  my  lord-of-short- 
memory,  how  the  boasted  expedition  of  Gongyles 
ended  in  disaster,  and  how  cruelly  it  wounded  my 
royal  father  and  his  kingdom." 

"The  expedition  sent  forth  by  thy  royal  father, 
great  as  it  was,  was  not  adequate  for  its  tremendous 
task.  It  will  be  my  care  to  equip  a  fleet  and  an  army 
which  will  be  ample — even  for  the  formidable  work  of 
storming  Candax  and  restoring  Crete  to  the  empire 
of  Rome." 

"And  where  shall  we  find  the  commander  who  is  to 
succeed  in  the  task  in  which  thy  illustrious  predecessor 
Gongyles  so  egregiously  failed?" 

"It  is  just  in  that,  my  august  sovereign  lord,  in 
which  I  plant  my  trust.     Rome  has  still  one  invincible 

90 


The   Sacred   Palace 

soldier  to  whom  no  mission  is  impossible.  The  entire 
equipment,  strength,  and  numbers  of  the  fleet  and  the 
army  to  be  raised  must  be  intrusted  to  one  man,  and 
that  man  must  have  absolute  command  and  undivided 
authority  by  sea  and  on  land,  and  the  right  to  give 
orders  of  every  sort,  as  if  he  were  Caesar  himself." 

"And  that  man  is — ?" 

"Nicephorus  Phocas,  O  king  of  kings,  the  general- 
in-chief  of  the  orient  themes — he  who  never  yet  failed 
his  sovereign  lord." 

"Ho!  ho!  ho!  My  most  incomprehensible  of  privy 
councillors,"  broke  in  the  Basileus,  with  a  ringing 
laugh,  "what  has  converted  your  sagacity  to  the  fierce 
Armenian  hero?  We  thought  ye  were  anything  but 
friends.  And  stanch  as  I  know  him  to  be,  and  in- 
estimable in  the  Anatolian  marches,  is  it  not  tempting 
his  virtue  too  much  if  we  give  him  our  sovereign 
authority  without  a  limit,  and  place  him  in  effective 
command  of  the  whole  resources  of  our  state — and  that 
within  a  day's  sail  of  our  Byzantine  capital?  No, 
my  lord  parakeimomenos,  never  will  I  put  tempta- 
tion such  as  this  in  the  way  of  any  man,  were  he  the 
archangel  Michael  with  his  sword  drawn!  I  have  said 
it.  Send  your  Belisarius  off  to  the  Saracen  frontier 
— and  place  a  good  month's  march  between  him  and 
us." 

"The  reconquest  of  Crete,  my  august  lord  and 
king,  will  take  Nicephorus  far  enough  away,  and  will 
occupy  him  long  enough;  and,  indeed,  may  expose 
him  to  death  and  disaster,  even  more  than  the  Saracen 
frontier.  Nicephorus  Phocas  we  all  know  to  be  the 
one  great  officer  of  the  empire  who  is  incapable  of 
treason  as  he  is  of  fear.     And  has  not  the  infallible  eye 

9i 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

of  my  lord  Basileus  perceived  that  the  temptations 
of  Nicephorus  Phocas  lie  not  in  the  power  he  commands 
nor  in  the  themes  he  controls,  but  rather  they  are 
within  the  Sacred  Palace  itself,  and  in  the  light  that 
shines  upon  him  there?"  added  the  eunuch,  in  his 
most  subtle  and  insinuating  tone. 

"Ah!"  cried  Romanus,  quickly,  as  a  frown  crossed 
the  joyous  and  beautiful  face  of  the  young  Caesar,  "thou 
counsellest  me  to  find  employment  for  this  Hercules  of 
mine  lest  he  prove  himself  troublesome  at  home  in 
sheer  wantonness  of  heart  and  lack  of  heroic  occupa- 
tion. My  lord  high  chamberlain,  we  understand  you 
at  last  —  we  thank  you  and  commend  your  frank- 
ness. Would  that  your  colleagues  of  our  council  were 
equally  vigilant  and  outspoken.  My  lord,  we  will 
hear  more  of  this.  Come  to-morrow  with  the  rest  of 
our  privy  council.  This  matter  is  critical  and  urgent." 
The  Basileus  spoke  with  a  seriousness  and  a  dignity 
which  he  had  not  shown  in  the  long  interview,  and  as 
became  an  emperor  of  Rome. 

Romanus  now  dismissed  his  prime  -  minister  with 
real  expressions  of  confidence,  and  relieved  him  of 
much  of  the  ceremonial  obeisances  which  the  wily  "bed- 
fellow" of  his  sovereign  was  too  prudent  to  omit.  And 
the  Basileus  was  already  considering  what  new  dissi- 
pation would  best  distract  his  mind  from  the  cares  of 
empire,  and  from  the  lurking  suspicion  which  the  am- 
biguous words  of  the  great  eunuch  had  planted  for 
the  first  time  in  the  careless  heart  of  the  prince.  But 
at  this  moment  the  peace  of  the  imperial  privacy  was 
disturbed  by  a  fresh  intrusion  of  a  very  different  kind. 
Vehement  expostulations,  mixed  with  the  sobs  and 
cries  of  women,  were  heard  at  the  door  of  the  chamber. 

92 


The   Sacred   Palace 

The  noises  and  confusion  increased  until  at  last  the 
guards  and  ushers  of  the  royal  presence  found  them- 
selves unable  to  resist  the  pressure  of  women,  who, 
with  shrieks  of  grief  and  indignation,  forced  their  way 
through  the  amazed  and  abashed  group  of  attendants. 
They  were  the  royal  princesses,  own  sisters  of  Romanus 
himself,  beloved  and  honored  daughters  of  Constan- 
tine  Born-in-the-Purple,  and, like  their  father  and  their 
brother,  equally  porphyrogennetoi,  with  all  the  divin- 
ity that  did  then  hedge  such  royal  birth  and  origin. 
Zoe,  the  eldest  of  five,  and  next  to  her  Theodora,  each 
breaking  from  the  feeble  and  half  -  hearted  restraint 
ostensibly  offered  them  by  the  confidential  eunuch- 
in-waiting,  were  the  first  to  burst  upon  the  privacy 
of  their  brother. 

They  were  women  of  beauty,  refinement,  and  high 
culture.  Constantine,  who  was  a  loving  and  indulgent 
father,  had  been  only  too  willing  to  keep  his  girls 
around  him  in  the  palace,  and  fell  into  the  advice  of 
his  politic  counsellors  to  delay  their  marriage,  lest  a 
husband,  who  would  be  a  son-in-law  of  the  emperor, 
might  endanger  or  disturb  the  succession  of  his  own 
son.  The  Basileus,  absorbed  in  art  and  literature  as 
he  was,  took  care  to  provide  the  princesses  with  all 
the  learning  and  accomplishments  of  the  age,  while  he 
surrounded  them  with  every  luxury  and  delight  which 
the  most  beautiful  and  most  luxurious  palace  in  the 
world  could  offer.  Young,  gay,  and  cultivated,  they 
had  never  till  this  day  known  an  hour's  anxiety  nor 
a  pang  more  serious  than  the  loss  of  a  pet  bird  or 
a  hitch  in  their  own  most  decorous  and  virginal  flirta- 
tions. 

"Sovereign  lord,  brother,  Romanus,"  shrieked  Zoe, 

93 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

as  she  flung  herself  down  with  her  sister  at  the  feet  of 
the  uneasy  Basileus,  "these  barbarous  wretches  pre- 
tend that  they  have  your  sign-manual  to  an  order  to 
expel  us  from  the  palace  —  us,  your  own  sisters, 
daughters  of  your  father,  who  is  hardly  cold  in  his 
tomb — have  orders  to  seize  and  force  us  off  this  very 
day!"  And  here  she  burst  into  such  an  agony  of 
sobs  that  her  voice  became  inarticulate,  her  fine 
countenance  was  convulsed  with  passion  and  terror, 
and  her  imperial  robes  and  ornaments  were  disordered 
by  the  prolonged  struggle  she  had  made  to  reach  the 
throne  of  Cassar.  "They  say,  too,  now,"  she  screamed 
out  in  her  despair,  "that  your  order  is  to  have  us  all 
imprisoned  in  a  convent,  buried  out  of  sight  of  the 
world,  robed  like  nuns  in  brown  serge,  without  hair 
or  ornament — nay,  this  lying  priest  dares  to  say  that 
we  are  all  to  take  the  veil  forever." 

"They  must  have  forged  this  pretended  order!  Our 
brother  is  not  so  cruel!"  shrieked  Theodora,  beside 
her  sister,  like  her  convulsed  in  tears  and  writhing  on 
the  marble  pavement.  "Romanus,  can  you  bear  to 
see  us  suffer — we  who  have  played  together  from  child- 
hood— we  who  have  never  had  an  angry  word  in  our 
lives — we  who  have  so  often  saved  you  from  our 
father's  anger?  Say  that  you  are  not  such  a  monster 
as  to  condemn  your  father's  children  to  a  living  death! " 
And  here  both  sisters  sank  down  with  sobs,  and  strove 
on  their  knees  to  reach  the  feet  of  their  brother  and 
take  his  hand.  "  Brother,  brother,  speak!"  they  both 
shrieked.  But  the  eunuchs  held  them  back  from  the 
hem  of  Caesar's  robe,  while  Romanus  stammered  out: 
"No!  no!  We  cannot  settle  such  a  matter  here,  and  in 
such  a  way.     Back  to  your  woman's  chambers,  my 

94 


The   Sacred   Palace 

children,  and  calm  yourselves.     This  is  a  matter  of 
state,  for  the  council  to  deal  with." 

His  hesitating  words  only  roused  fresh  storms  of 
wailing  from  the  women,  for  now  the  three  other  sisters, 
Theophano,  Anna,  and  Agatha,  managed  to  force  their 
way  into  the  room,  from  the  corridor  where  they  had 
heard  what  already  had  passed.  They,  too,  flung 
themselves  down  in  a  group  round  the  perplexed 
Basileus,  who  seemed  torn  by  his  two  spirits  within — 
unscrupulous  selfishness  and  easy  good -nature.  The 
scene  became  one  of  wild  confusion.  The  five  prin- 
cesses, calling  on  their  brother  by  every  word  of  pity 
that  could  touch  his  heart,  and  mingled  with  screams 
of  indignation  at  the  dreadful  fate  to  which  he  was 
condemning  them;  the  chamberlains,  eunuchs,  cubic- 
ulars,  striving  aimlessly  to  shield  their  sovereign  from 
the  storm,  and  yet  hesitating  to  offer  indignity  to  the 
royal  ladies,  to  whom  till  yesterday  they  had  been 
the  humblest  of  courtiers;  the  sovereign  lord  of  the 
world,  torn  in  half  by  natural  feelings  and  selfish  pur- 
pose, made  a  tableau  that  could  only  be  reproduced 
by  the  stage.  The  tumult  and  excitement  had  now 
roused  the  Sacred  Palace.  The  great  chamberlain, 
Joseph  Bringas,  returned  again  to  assist  his  sovereign 
by  his  counsels,  and  with  him  one  or  two  of  the  great 
officers  of  state,  who  had  been  summoned  to  the  coro- 
nation ceremonies.  The  illustrious  John  Tzimisces, 
the  right  arm  of  Nicephorus  Phocas  and  the  second 
soldier  of  the  empire,  was  seen  in  the  throng  behind 
Theodora,  to  whose  hand  he  was  known  to  aspire;  and 
there,  too,  was  the  young  hero,  Basil  Digenes,  at  sight 
of  whom  (the  courtiers  would  whisper)  Agatha  had 
been  seen  to  blush.     Romanus  himself  could  no  longer 

95 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

restrain  his  tears.  "All  this  must  be  considered,  my 
sweet  girls,"  he  said,  as  he  raised  the  tender  Agatha 
from  the  ground  and  kissed  her  on  her  pale  cheek. 
A  thrill  passed  round  the  court,  and  the  women  felt 
they  were  saved. 

But  at  this  moment  a  new  group  broke  into  the  as- 
semblage. A  tall,  gaunt,  and  terrible-looking  monk, 
escorted  by  his  acolytes,  bearing  an  enamelled  crucifix, 
with  an  ikon  embossed  with  gems,  stalked  haughtily  up 
to  the  very  throne,  and,  planting  the  holy  emblem  be- 
fore him  with  his  right  hand,  he  cried  aloud,  in  a  stern 
voice,  to  the  vacillating  Basileus,  "Sovereign  Lord, 
Augustus,  autocrator  over  men  on  earth,  thou  wilt 
not  forget  that  thou  art  the  servant  of  the  King  of 
Kings,  who  is  above,  whose  minister  and  interpreter 
we  churchmen  are.  Thy  royal  decree,  bearing  the 
vermilion  signet,  and  duly  enrolled  in  thy  chancery, 
has  lawfully  devoted  to  Christ  and  to  the  Mother  of 
God  these  illustrious  virgins  of  thy  father's  house,  in 
order  that  they  may  pass  into  the  more  Sacred  Palace 
of  our  Blessed  Lady,  wherein  they  will  live  with  the 
angels  and  not  with  men.  They  are  already  children 
of  Our  Lady,  and  are  devoted  eternally  to  the  blessed 
life  of  virginity.  The  office  which  thy  wisdom  and 
piety  has  committed  to  my  charge  by  thy  imperial 
decree — to  have  them  arrayed  in  the  garb  of  Holy 
Church  and  consecrated  to  the  holy  life  —  this  is  a 
formal  ceremony  which  their  own  ignorance  and  need- 
less alarm  has  interrupted.  But  in  the  records  of 
heaven,  as  the  archangel  above  has  graven  it  in  the 
mystic  book  of  life,  their  bodies,  like  their  souls,  are 
already  consecrated  to  Christ.  To  tear  from  Him  His 
chosen  bride  would  be  sacrilege  and  outrage  on  His 

96 


The  Sacred   Palace 

holy  name.  My  Lord  Basileus,  I  claim  these  royal 
virgins  to  present  them  to  my  Saviour  and  to  my 
Church." 

All  shrank  back  aghast  at  the  words  of  the  monk. 
It  was  John,  the  superior  of  the  venerated  convent  of 
Stoudion,  a  fanatic  of  iron  type,  whose  austerities  and 
inflexibility  had  won  him  a  wide  ascendency  in  the 
city,  where  his  influence  was  only  second  to  that  of 
the  patriarch  himself.  The  weak  and  perplexed  Basil- 
eus was  plunged  again  in  bewilderment.  He  had  begun 
to  feel  the  cruelty  of  his  own  edict ;  but  he  well  knew 
the  dangerous  power  that  the  monk  of  Stoudion  pos- 
sessed and  the  relentless  nature  of  the  man  in  the 
cause  of  Holy  Church  and  the  virgin  life.  And  now 
a  fresh  apparition  struck  terror  and  compunction  into 
the  heart  of  the  Basileus.  The  groups  parted  as  there 
advanced  amid  solemn  silence  the  stately  figure  of 
the  Basilissa  -  Dowager,  Helena,  daughter  of  the  late 
Emperor  Romanus  Lecapenus,  widow  of  the  late  Em- 
peror Constantine.  She  was  robed  in  deep  mourn- 
ing, and  her  eyes  alone  betrayed  the  excitement  and 
agonies  she  had  endured.  She  stood  before  her  son, 
with  her  daughters  around  her,  looking  like  a  Niobe 
or  a  Hecuba  who  sought  to  avert  the  stroke  of  fate 
from  her  offspring. 

"I  stand  here,  my  son,  whom  death  has  just  made 
my  sovereign,  to  learn  if  it  can  be  truth  that  thou  hast 
dared  to  consign  the  mother  that  bore  thee  to  a  con- 
vent. Am  I  also,  who  have  queened  it  in  this  Sacred 
Palace  for  a  whole  generation,  to  be  torn  from  my 
children  and  my  home,  from  life  and  air,  and  thrust 
into  the  desolation  of  a  nunnery?  Romanus,  if  thou 
art  bent  on  being  a  new  Nero,  a  second  Orestes,  stab 

97 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

me  in  this  womb  which  bore  thee,  as  I  stand  here;  and 
may  God  and  the  Mother  of  God  witness  between  thee 
and  me!" 

"Mother,  I  cannot  bear  it — I  will  not — I  meant  it  not. 
These  priests  have  beguiled  me.  They  have  bereft  me 
of  reason,"  gasped  Romanus,  in  an  agony  of  tears  and 
sobs,  and  he  strove  to  fold  his  mother  in  his  arms. 

"It  was  no  priest  that  beguiled  thee,  Romanus,  my 
beloved  child.  It  was  no  priest,  and  no  minister  of 
state.  It  was  the  sorceress,  the  demon,  the  base-born 
creature  from  the  tavern,  who  was  the  death  of  thy 
father  and  has  been  a  curse  to  thyself!" 

These  words  were  still  ringing  round  the  dome  of 
the  imperial  chamber  when  Theophano  glided  in  at 
the  head  of  a  splendid  array  of  cubiculars,  eunuchs, 
guards,  and  pages,  in  all  the  glamour  of  her  imperial 
vestures  and  her  divine  beauty,  with  a  smile  of  tri- 
umph on  her  lips  and  the  glance  as  of  an  angry  Juno 
in  her  eyes. 

"My  King,  my  lord,  my  hero,"  burst  forth  the  Em- 
press, as  she  flung  her  siren's  arms  about  the  neck 
of  her  husband  and  fascinated  him  with  the  basilisk 
fire  of  her  eyes,  "I  am  come  to  save  thee  and  keep 
thee  true  to  thyself.  Can  the  mighty  autocrator  of 
Rome  be  twisted  and  turned  from  his  purpose  by  the 
cries  of  girls  and  the  scoldings  of  a  crone  ?  Wilt  thou 
suffer  the  majesty  of  thy  own  imperial  purple  to  be  be- 
smirched by  the  ribaldry  which  passes  among  slaves 
in  the  street  ?  In  flinging  their  nicknames  at  thy  wife 
they  are  committing  treason  against  thy  sacred  per- 
son. Who  is  the  daughter  of  Lecapenus  to  bandy  in- 
sults at  me,  the  daughter  of  a  hundred  kings  of  Sparta 
down  from  Leonidas  of  Thermopylae.     Does  the  widow 

98 


The  Sacred  Palace 

know  who  was  her  own  grandfather,  for  Lecapenus, 
the  foundling,  himself  never  boasted  of  a  sire?  And 
cannot  she  remember  the  day  when  his  sons,  her  own 
brothers,  had  their  father,  the  mock  emperor  of  a  day, 
seized  in  his  bed  and  flung  into  a  monastery  in  an 
island?  There,  in  like  manner,  it  is  time  that  she 
should  go,  this  Hecuba,  the  widow  -  scold,  and  her 
shrieking  girls.  It  is  the  rule  of  this  empire  to  keep 
no  secret  traitors  near  the  throne,  be  they  men  or 
women — and  especially  women,"  she  added,  with  a 
cruel  sneer,  "for  they  tempt  men  to  be  traitors  and 
become  their  dupes  and  their  tools.  The  Sacred  Palace 
has  no  room  for  widows — no,  nor  for  virgins!  Their 
place  is  in  the  House  of  God,  where  they  live  with 
the  angels,  and  are  no  longer  the  snare  of  men.  My 
sovereign  lord,  submit  to  Holy  Church,  for  whom 
the  father  here  present  speaks ;  be  guided  by  thy  privy 
council,  whose  voice  the  lord  chamberlain  has  brought 
thee  to-day!" 

The  wretched  lad  cowered  under  this  torrent  of 
reproaches  and  commands.  In  breathless  silence  he 
turned  his  eyes  from  the  monk  to  the  chamberlain, 
and  thence  he  fixed  them  on  the  ground  in  sore  per- 
plexity and  utter  bewilderment.  Stifled  sobs  alone 
broke  the  agonizing  silence. 

"  Romanus,  my  husband,  my  lover!"  hissed  the 
Basilissa  at  last,  as  she  forced  him  to  look  into  her 
eyes,  and  he  felt  the  perfume  of  her  breath  steal  into 
the  marrow  of  his  bones — "Romanus,  my  lord,  I  say, 
choose  between  me  and  them!  Dost  thou  choose  them 
and  to  see  me  no  more?  For  I  swear  to  thee  by  the 
Mother  of  God  in  the  Daphne,  that  unless  the  widow 
and  her  girls  do  retire  to  the  convent  they  are  decreed 

99 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

to  inhabit,  I  take  the  veil  myself  and  forswear  thee 
and  thy  palace  forever!" 

This  threat,  supported  by  so  sacramental  an  oath 
that  no  man  had  ever  known  to  be  broken,  shook  the 
young  Caesar  from  head  to  foot.  He  folded  his  wife 
in  his  arms,  and  she  sank  on  his  bosom  in  a  well-acted 
scene  of  rapturous  affection.  At  the  sight  of  this  final 
decision  the  princesses  shrieked  aloud.  Their  mother 
flung  herself  forward  and  sought  to  snatch  the  robe 
of  her  son,  but  was  checked  by  the  crucifix  which  the 
monk  struck  fiercely  down  between  them.  The  lord 
high  chamberlain  gave  the  signal,  and  uttered  one 
sharp  word  to  the  royal  guard  and  accubitors.  The 
eunuchs  sprang  forward  and  seized  the  princesses, 
who  screamed  and  struggled  in  their  unholy  grasp. 
The  ladies  of  their  retinue  joined  in  the  melee  and 
sought  to  tear  their  beloved  mistresses  from  their 
jailers'  hands.  A  wild  hubbub  broke  forth.  "Save 
us!"  "Spare  us!"  "Cruel  brother!"  "Wicked  woman!" 
"Ungodly  priest !"  were  the  broken  phrases  heard  above 
the  shrieks  of  the  women.  After  an  unseemly  struggle, 
such  as  ill  became  a  palace  and  was  cruel  indignity 
to  royal  ladies,  they  were  dragged  through  the  corri- 
dors and  hurried  in  litters  to  the  convents  which 
yawned  to  receive  them. 

The  Emperor,  torn  to  pieces  and  almost  fainting  un- 
der the  storm  of  his  emotions,  flung  himself  down  on  a 
couch,  buried  his  face  in  his  embroidered  robe,  and  wept 
the  most  bitter  tears  he  had  known  since  childhood. 

Theophano  turned  from  him  with  a  look  of  scorn  and 
pity.  "The  granddaughter  of  the  Scythian  barber," 
said  she,  in  the  ear  of  her  principal  eunuch,  "will  not 
again  fling  names  at  the  descendant  of  Spartan  kings! " 

ioo 


IX 

The  Muster  of  the  Crusade 

A  GLORIOUS  July  morning  in  the  year  of  Our  Lord, 
960,  was  irradiating  the  shores  of  the  Propontis 
and  the  porticos  and  domes  of  Byzantium,  and  al- 
ready the  city  and  palace  of  the  Caesars  were  crowded 
with  brilliant  throngs  and  gala  trappings  of  expectant  ■ 
triumph.  All  the  terraces  which  commanded  a  view 
of  the  sea  were  full  of  eager  sight -seers.  The  walls 
that  girdled  the  city  on  the  sea-side  were  covered  with 
dense  groups ;  and  the  sea  itself,  from  the  Golden  Horn 
to  the  Princes'  Islands,  was  alive  with  thousands  of 
vessels  of  every  description  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach.  The  mighty  expedition  to  recover  Crete  from 
the  infidel  was  at  last  about  to  sail. 

In  the  Sacred  Palace  itself  a  throng  of  courtiers  and 
high  officials  were  gathered  in  the  Tzikanisteiion,  or 
polo -ground,  and  in  the  gardens,  porticos,  and  ar- 
cades that  adjoined  it,  waiting  for  their  Majesties  and 
the  great  ministers  of  state,  who  were  to  watch  the 
fleet  at  its  departure  and  wish  godspeed  to  its  illustri- 
ous commander.  In  the  corridors  and  cloisters  of  the 
palace  all  was  animation  and  a  hubbub  of  greetings, 
inquiries,  and  ardent  anticipations.  A  group  of  gentle- 
men of  the  wardrobe,  grooms  of  the  chamber,  and  a 
silentiary,   were   discussing  the   exact   constitution   of 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  vast  expedition.  Nicetas,  the  Paphlagonian,  a 
vestiarins,  or  gentleman  of  the  wardrobe,  was  loudly 
exclaiming  that  so  powerful  an  armament  had  never 
left  the  Golden  Horn  since  the  age  of  the  great  Hera- 
clius. 

"It  is  so  many  generations  since  that  occurred," 
rejoined  Dionysius,  attached  to  the  cubicular  service, 
"that  we  cannot  make  any  comparisons;  and  no  one 
is  bound  to  take  literally  all  the  fulsome  eulogies  we 
read  in  the  Heracliads  of  George  of  Pisidia,  I  sup- 
pose." 

Here  they  were  joined  by  Theodosius  the  deacon, 
who  already  was  preparing  materials  for  his  own  iambics 
on  "The  Conquest  of  Crete."  "  Let  us  remember,"  said 
he,  "the  well-omened  words  of  George,  when  he  ad- 
dressed his  king: 

"  '  Return  triumphant  with  thy  sable  greaves 
Dyed  crimson  in  the  blood  of  heathen  foes.'  " 

"If  thou  canst  compose  such  a  poem  as  that  of 
George,  most  reverend  deacon,  thou  wilt,  indeed,  be 
famous,"  said  Dionysius;  "but  is  it  not  a  somewhat 
doubtful  compliment  to  insinuate  that  Nicephorus 
when  he  returns  in  triumph  is  to  be  installed  in  the 
vermilion  buskins  ? ' ' 

"A  truce  to  unseemly  gibes  on  such  an  auspicious 
day,"  said  the  poetic  deacon.  "  I  have  been  collecting 
in  my  note-book  the  exact  figures  which  show  the 
strength  of  the  fleet  and  army,  and  from  a  friend  of 
mine,  who  is  employed  as  scribe  on  the  general  staff, 
I  have  obtained  a  copy  of  the  official  return  prepared 
for  the  privy  council." 

"Well!  let  us  hear  as  much  of  it  as  is  lawful  to  be 
102 


The   Muster  of  the  Crusade 

divulged  to  mere  civilians  as  we  are,"  said  the  other 
speakers,  with  one  voice. 

"Know,  then,"  said  the  deacon,  with  importance, 
"that  the  entire  armament,  both  on  sea  and  on  land, 
has  been  organized  and  equipped  by  the  ever-victorious 
Nicephorus  Phocas,  commander-in-chief,  whom  God 
and  His  Mother  preserve." 

"And  have  the  ministers  of  state,  and  above  all  the 
most  noble  lord  of  the  bedchamber,  had  no  hand  in 
the  work  ?  We  know  that  they  have  been  toiling  night 
and  day  for  six  months,"  said  Stephanos,  the  silen- 
tiary,  who  was  a  creature  of  the  eunuch  Joseph. 

"Certainly,"  rejoined  the  deacon,  anxious  to  re- 
trieve his  slip  of  speech,  "the  great  minister  of  our 
imperial  master  has  brought  to  bear  on  the  task  the 
whole  of  his  unequalled  energy  and  experience.  And 
he  has  toiled  to  satisfy  the  demands  and  plans  of  the 
commander.  Nicephorus  designed  the  whole  array, 
which  the  parakeimomenos  carried  into  execution.  As 
both  soldier  and  statesman  recognized  that  the  future 
of  Rome  hangs  on  the  issue  of  this  critical  war,  they 
have  worked  together  as  one  brain — the  general  bring- 
ing to  bear  his  consummate  mastery  of  tactics,  the 
minister  exerting  his  wonderful  control  over  all  the 
resources  of  the  empire." 

"And  Rome  has  at  last  risen  to  the  occasion,"  said 
Dionysius;  "it  was  time  that  she  did!" 

"Everything  has  been  ordered  in  the  manner  pre- 
scribed by  our  late  blessed  Lord  Constantine  Born- 
in-the-Purple,  whom  the  saints  are  now  conducting  to 
paradise,  as  he  has  set  forth  in  the  first  book  of  his 
Memoirs  and  Regulations.  But  in  many  arms,  and 
especially  in  cavalry,  the  strength  has  been  much  in- 
8  103 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

creased  by  the  foresight  of  Nicephorus.  The  first 
brigade  is  formed  of  Thracians  and  Macedonians  from 
the  mountains  of  Rhodope  and  Haemus.  Then  are  en- 
rolled picked  troops  from  the  eastern  themes,  Cappa- 
docians,  Lycaonians,  Anatolians,  Isaurians,  Mardaites, 
Opsicians,  and  Galatians — those  tall,  fierce  descend- 
ants of  the  northern  invaders  of  old.  Of  course,  Ni- 
cephorus has  selected,  for  the  centre  and  bulk  of  his 
army,  his  own  Armenian  regiments,  whom  he  has  so 
often  led  to  victory.  But  Bringas  himself  has  in- 
sisted on  adding  a  division  of  Russ,  those  Scandi- 
navian mercenary  giants  who  are  willing  to  serve  under 
our  eagle.  And  there  are  no  less  than  twenty-five 
squadrons  of  the  wild  horsemen  from  the  northern 
frontier,  beyond  the  Ister  and  the  Euxine,  who  call 
themselves  Hungarians,  Patzinaks,  and  Khazars,  and 
I  know  not  what  outlandish  names  they  bear — names 
uncouth  enough  to  fit  into  iambic  verse!"  said  the 
poet,  with  a  sigh. 

"Unspeakable  barbarians  and  unbaptized  heathen 
is  what  I  call  them,"  said  Dionysius. 

"They  fight  for  the  Cross  stoutly  enough,  and  they 
follow  the  general  to  the  death , ' '  said  the  deacon ;  "they 
are  undoubtedly  the  finest  light  horsemen  that  God 
ever  made.  The  Hagarenes  of  the  desert,  for  all  their 
pure-bred  steeds,  "are  no  match  for  these  hairy  bar- 
barians of  the  steppes." 

"And  what  may  the  total  of  the  forces  amount  to?" 
asked  Dionysius,  eagerly. 

"The  roll  that  I  have  seen  copied  from  the  lists 
signed  by  General  Nicephorus  himself,  and  counter- 
signed by  Lord  Bringas,  brings  up  the  total  of  all 
arms,  of  all  nations  and  tongues,  to  fifty-seven  thou- 

104 


The  Muster  of  the  Crusade 

sand  eight  hundred  and  ninety.  Each  nation  fights 
with  its  own  arms,  costume,  and  officers,  interpreters 
to  each  company  conveying  in  their  barbarous  jargons 
the  Greek  word  of  command." 

"No  such  army  ever  left  the  Golden  Horn!"  they 
all  cried  at  once.  "May  Mary  Hodogetria  bring  them 
home  in  triumph ! " 

Here  a  movement  in  the  gay  throng  led  the  speakers 
to  pass  into  the  lovely  garden  adjoining  the  polo- 
ground,  the  arcades  around  which  were  crowded  with 
ladies  of  the  court.  The  parterres  and  terraces,  as 
they  rose  one  above  another,  were  bowers  of  roses, 
myrtles,  vines,  oleanders,  and  carnations,  and  the  air 
was  heavy  with  the  perfume  of  their  blossom.  A 
group  of  fair  women,  in  their  brightest  robes  of  silk 
gauze  and  lace,  saluted  the  poet  and  his  friends,  as  they 
joined  them  in  the  open  terrace  hung  with  awnings  of 
Oriental  tapestry. 

"Tell  us  poor,  ignorant  women,  O  most  reverend 
deacon,"  said  the  beautiful  Theodora,  the  young  wife 
of  a  new  lord-in-waiting,  "what  are  the  names  and 
uses  of  all  these  myriads  of  ships  that  we  see  at  anchor 
in  the  bay;  and  explain  to  us  all  the  mysteries  of  the 
marvellous  instruments  with  which  they  are  filled." 

The  poet  was  only  too  ready  to  dilate  on  his  favor- 
ite theme,  and  to  display  his  official  information. 

"Gracious  Lady  Theodora,  and  sweet  ladies,"  he 
said,  "I  am  delighted  to  do  your  bidding.  The  entire 
fleet  consists  of  vessels,  large  and  small,  no  less  than 
three  hundred  and  sixty  in  number,  but,  of  course, 
most  of  these  are  transports,  cutters,  and  smaller  boats. 
The  great  ships  of  war  that  they  call  dromons  are  one 
hundred  and  twenty-three  in  number,  each   carrying 

105 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

from  two  hundred  and  fifty  to  three  hundred  men, 
about  one-quarter  of  whom  are  from  the  regular  army. 
The  cruisers  of  the  Pamphylian  build  carry  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  men.  Of 
these  swift  ships  there  are  ninety-five.  The  ships  of 
war,  with  double  or  single  banks  of  oarsmen,  thus 
number  two  hundred  and  eighteen,  and  carry  alto- 
gether forty -nine  thousand  two  hundred  and  fifty 
men,  about  half  of  whom  are  oarsmen  and  seamen 
from  the  Peloponnesus  and  the  Aegean  Islands,  and 
from  the  Asian  coasts." 

' '  And  what  do  you  call  this  great  ship  moored  close 
against  the  harbor  of  Boucoleon  near  us? "  asked  Theo- 
dora— "the  one  with  three  banks  of  oars,  I  mean." 

"That  is  the  commander's  own  flag-ship — The  Arch- 
angel Michael — one  of  the  largest  dromons  or  war-ships 
that  we  have.  It  is  waiting  now  to  receive  him  on 
board." 

"And  what  is  the  great  turret  in  the  middle  of  her?" 
asked  the  fair  girl. 

"That  is  the  war -tower  to  which  the  fighting  men 
ascend  in  action — the  xylocastron — from  the  bulwarks 
of  which  they  pour  down  missiles,  stones,  and  molten 
lead." 

"And  the  smaller  turret  in  front,  with  the  brazen 
throat  like  the  dragon  which  St.  George  slew  with  his 
spear?"  she  asked  again. 

"Oh,  that  is  the  barbette,  from  which  our  siphons 
shoot  forth  the  Greek  fire  that  is  the  terror  of  our  foes. 
Each  dromon  carries  three  of  these  guns,  which  spout 
forth  streams  of  this  liquid  and  unquenchable  fire 
through  the  brazen  throat  of  the  dragon  at  the  prow. 
Beside  which,  the  ships  carry  grenades,  or  pots  of  this 

106 


The   Muster  of  the  Crusade 

combustible  liquid,  arranged  in  rows  round  the  bul- 
warks. You  can  see  them  hung  like  oil -jars  round  the 
bulwarks  of  the  St.  Michael.  This  is  our  secret;  and 
our  Greek  fire  makes  our  ships  invincible  at  close 
quarters." 

"And  for  what  are  all  these  clumsy-looking  merchant 
and  traffic  vessels  which  seem  to  be  swarming  on  the 
sea?" 

"These  are  the  great  transports,  filled  with  the  men, 
horses,  artillery,  and  stores.  They  number  one  hun- 
dred and  forty-two.  They  carry  an  average  of  fifty 
men  each,  and  number  in  all  seven  thousand  one  hun- 
dred, thus  making  a  grand  total  of  fifty-seven  thou- 
sand eight  hundred  and  ninety.  Everything  has  been 
carefully  thought  out  by  the  general  and  the  coun- 
cil. I  can  even  show  you  the  figures,"  said  the  dea- 
con, in  his  ardor  drawing  forth  his  tablets,  wherein  he 
had  copied  down  the  main  items  of  the  equipment. 
"Yes,  here  are  the  lists.  Every  war-ship  carries  aboard 
her  some  seventy  men-at-arms.  In  her  storage  are 
seventy  coats  of  mail,  eighty  helmets,  twenty-four  light 
corselets,  one  hundred  swords,  eighty  lances,  seventy 
shields,  twenty  halberts,  one  hundred  javelins,  and 
one  hundred  bolts,  with  twenty  cross-bows,  and  fifty 
bows  with  double  strings  each;  ten  thousand  arrows, 
two  hundred  darts,  ten  thousand  caltrops  or  prongs, 
fifty  surcoats,  fifty  steel  caps,  and  seventy  baking- 
pans." 

"Oh,  spare  us  these  catalogues  of  weapons,  good 
deacon;  poor  girls  as  we  are  do  not  so  much  as  know 
what  all  these  mean!" 

"Ah,  but  I  have  not  nearly  done,"  said  Theodo- 
sius,  "for  there  are  all  the  munitions  of  war — battering- 

107 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

rams,  with  their  iron  rams'  heads,  and  turtle -back 
shields  to  protect  them  from  assault;  catapults,  with 
their  windlasses,  to  hurl  rocks  and  bolts  at  the  walls; 
cranes,  palisades,  mallets,  barrels,  cables,  spars,  ropes, 
one  hundred  axes,  one  hundred  ship's  adzes,  three 
thousand  pounds  of  lead,  two  hundred  pounds  of  zinc, 
two  hundred  pounds  of  tin,  three  thousand  pounds  of 
iron,  three  thousand  nails,  one  thousand  spades,  two 
thousand  buckets;  and,  for  each  ship,  one  hundred  and 
twenty  spare  oars,  masts,  sails,  hawsers,  and  anchors — " 

But  here  the  poet  was  interrupted  by  shouts  of 
laughter  from  the  women,  who  had  been  deluged  with 
too  much  of  his  official  catalogues.  "We  are  not  in 
training  for  the  admiral's  cabinet!"  cried  they. 

And  how  will  you  get  these  uncouth  names  into  the 
iambics  of  your  cantos,  O  friend  of  the  Muses?"  asked 
Nicetas,  of  the  robing -room,  and  turned  the  laugh 
against  the  poor  deacon. 

"Well,"  said  he,  "did  not  Homer  fill  the  second 
Iliad  with  his  catalogue  of  the  ships  and  their  captains? 
The  world  shall  rehearse  my  Iliad — The  Taking  of  Crete 
— a  thousand  years  hence.  Have  you  heard  my  invo- 
cation? Something  new  and  sublime,  I  can  assure 
you.     Listen  to  this: 

"Old  Rome,  our  mother,  grudge  not  to  thy  child 
That  New  Rome  shall  an  equal  glory  boast. 
Thy  Scipios  and  thy  Caesars  have  not  yet 
Drained  to  the  dregs  the  flowing  cup  of  Fame — " 

But  before  the  poet  could  recite  any  more  of  his 
epic,  which  he  fondly  believed  would  outlive  the  Iliad 
and  the  Odyssey,  and  which  has  certainly  fulfilled  his 
boast   by   surviving  a  thousand   years,   the   courtiers 

108 


The   Muster  of  the  Crusade 

thronged  to  the  upper  terrace,  where  the  heralds  and 
ushers  announced  the  approach  of  their  Majesties. 
Presently  Romanus  appeared,  in  a  magnificent  tunic 
and  robe  of  soft  samite,  embroidered  and  brocaded 
with  a  pattern  of  the  Basileus  spearing  a  lion,  and 
with  other  quaint  devices,  and  a  light  diadem  that 
shone  with  emeralds  and  rubies.  He  was  surrounded 
by  a  suite  of  his  principal  officials  and  not  a  few  of  his 
parasites,  among  whom  the  fair  young  Glaucus  of  Mile- 
tus had  been  enrolled,  much  against  his  own  desire. 
And  foremost  rose  the  tall  form  of  the  parakeimo- 
menos,  Joseph  Bringas,  to-day  more  than  ever  the 
real  wielder  of  power. 

"The  saints  above  have  vouchsafed  to  us  a  glorious 
morning  for  the  great  start,  most  fortunate  of  lord 
chamberlains  and  most  mighty  of  eunuchs,"  said  the 
prince,  gayly.  "At  whose  altar  have  you  besought  such 
a  boon?" 

"At  the  shrine  of  St.  Romanus,  my  sovereign  lord, 
most  fortunate  of  kings,"  said  the  politic  Joseph. 
' '  My  task  has  been  but  to  carry  out  the  orders  of  your 
Majesty,  and  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  the  soldier  to 
whom  your  wisdom  has  committed  the  fortune  of 
Rome." 

"Let  the  chief  be  summoned,  then,  that  we  may  give 
him  our  royal  blessing  and  speed  him  on  his  enterprise, 
which  you  men  of  craft  and  forebodings  will  not  suffer 
me  to  lead  in  person." 

"Rome  and  this  city,  which  God  guards,  would  not 
be  safe  if  Caesar  had  quitted  it,  sire!  The  lord  com- 
mander-in-chief waits  your  Majesty's  summons." 

The  crowds  parted  and  formed  in  an  expectant  circle 
as  the  form  of  Nicephorus  was  seen  advancing  to  do 

109 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

homage  to  the  Basileus.  Arrayed  in  resplendent  armor, 
he  looked  grave,  resolute,  and  confident  as  he  rose 
from  the  ceremonial  obeisances  that  custom  prescribed. 

The  Basileus  received  his  great  vassal  with  dignity, 
honor,  and  friendliness,  and  addressed  him  his  vows 
for  his  triumph  with  all  the  graciousness  that  made 
Romanus  popular  with  his  servants  and  people. 

"We  envy  you  the  honor  of  leading  so  vast  a  host, 
which  my  taskmasters  of  the  council  will  not  permit 
me  to  join,  greatly  as  I  desire  to  fight  by  the  side  of  so 
illustrious  a  warrior.  Nor  need  I  tell  you,  my  lord 
general,  that  the  whole  resources  of  our  empire  are 
committed  to  your  charge,  and  that  Rome  has  now  no 
other  army,  and  no  second  fleet." 

"Most  gracious  sovereign,  no  man  knows  so  well  as 
Nicephorus  himself  how  great  a  trust  has  been  com- 
mitted to  his  hands;  and  no  man  is  more  sensible  of  the 
supreme  confidence  with  which  his  king  has  honored 
his  demands  for  men,  arms,  ships,  and  material,  nor 
of  the  zeal  with  which  your  Majesty's  council  have 
supplied  him  with  all  that  he  required.  We  whose 
lives  have  been  passed  on  the  Asian  frontier,  in  bat- 
tling with  the  ever  -  increasing  hordes  of  the  False 
Prophet,  well  know  that  Rome  or  Islam  must  fall  in 
the  end;  that  this  royal  city  itself  must  become  one 
day  the  chief  throne  of  the  infidel,  unless  we  drive  him 
back  into  his  deserts  and  his  steppes.  For  some  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  he  has  been  master  of  Crete,  and 
has  continually  strengthened  his  power,  and  defied  all 
our  efforts  to  recover  it.  While  he  holds  it,  thy  em- 
pire is  being  bled  to  death,  O  king!  It  must  be  won 
back,  or  Rome  is  ruined.  We  must  stake  our  all  on 
this  venture,  and  no  sacrifice  is  too  great  for  such  an 

no 


The   Muster  of  the  Crusade 

end.  My  lord  Basileus,  we  go  forth  with  the  aid  of 
Christ  and  His  Blessed  Mother  to  save  the  Cross  and 
His  people.  We  will  win  back  Crete  for  the  Cross  and 
for  Rome,  or  I  and  my  men,  or  such  parts  of  us  as  the 
Hagarene  dogs  have  not  devoured,  will  lie  rotting  on 
the  soil  of  that  island.  God  be  merciful  to  us  miser- 
able sinners,  and  strengthen  the  hands  of  us  weak  ser- 
vants of  His  holy  name!" 

But  here,  as  the  chief  ended  his  audience  with  the 
Basileus  and  was  passing  away  with  the  official  rever- 
ences in  use,  he  received  a  special  summons  from  the 
empress,  who,  with  her  officers  and  ladies,  was  stand- 
ing apart  in  a  more  retired  part  of  the  royal  portico. 
Theophano  was  radiant  in  her  most  lovely  smile  and  in 
her  most  airy  draperies  of  summer.  She  was  wrapped 
in  diaphanous  clouds  of  silk  gauze,  dyed  with  the  hues 
of  the  softest  sunrise,  and  all  dazzling  with  pendent 
jewels  and  patins  of  gold.  She  beamed  on  the  hero, 
as  he  advanced  to  her  feet,  and  overwhelmed  him  with 
her  praises  and  fervent  prayers  for  his  return  in  tri- 
umph. Nicephorus  prostrated  himself  before  her,  and 
seized  the  hand  she  permitted  him  to  kiss.  She  bent 
over  him  till  her  lips  almost  touched  his  head,  and  she 
whispered  in  his  ear,  as  her  perfumed  breath  filled  the 
soul  of  the  warrior  to  intoxication:  "Come  back  to  us, 
thou  new  Belisarius,  in  glory,  and  thou  wilt  find  in  the 
Sacred  Palace  a  more  generous  Theodora.  Forget  not 
that  the  savior  of  Rome  is  ever  destined  to  become  its 
master! — master  of  Rome,  and  master  of  Rome's  mis- 
tress." 

Stunned  by  the  manner  of  his  reception,  with  these 
mysterious  words  ringing  in  his  ears,  the  chief  bowed 
himself  from  the  presence  and  nerved  his  whole  nature 

in 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

to  the  great  task  he  had  in  hand.  His  officers  and 
staff,  after  the  prescribed  ceremonies  of  presentation 
and  leave-taking  were  fulfilled,  followed  him  to  the 
port  of  Boucoleon,  with  its  marble  quays  and  staircase, 
whence  the  barges  in  waiting  took  them  to  their  ships. 
When  the  commander-in-chief  and  his  captains  were 
on  board  and  all  was  ready  to  weigh  anchor,  the  Basil- 
eus  and  Basilissa,  each  surrounded  with  a  brilliant 
court,  mounted  the  imperial  stand  that  had  been  built 
up  at  the  water's  edge  to  witness  the  scene.  It  was 
surely  one  of  the  most  magnificent  that  the  eye  of  man 
had  ever  till  that  day  beheld.  Far  out  to  sea,  across 
that  grand  bay,  now  glancing  in  the  morning  sun  and 
surrounded  with  mountains,  headlands,  and  distant 
towers  and  churches,  the  vast  fleet  was  spreading  its 
colored  sails.  The  decks  were  crowded  with  soldiers 
in  various  arms  and  accoutrements;  some  were  the 
mail-clad  cataphracti,  the  Varangian  guards,  with  huge 
axes  and  gilt  corselets,  the  Thracians  in  their  stout 
jerkins  of  leather  and  sheepskins,  the  Scythians  and 
Russ  in  bearskin  and  sables,  the  Isaurian  mountaineers 
in  white  capotes.  The  masts  of  the  war  -  ships  were 
topped  with  emblems  and  banners  of  fantastic  design, 
and  their  gilt  and  bronze  prows  represented  the  gaping 
jaws  of  beasts  of  prey.  The  shouts  of  the  captains 
standing  on  high  in  their  turrets,  re-echoed  by  the  boat- 
swains below,  as  the  anchors  and  hawsers  were  swung 
in  to  the  monotonous  songs  of  the  seamen,  resounded 
across  the  waters.  And  now  the  rowers  settled  down 
in  their  benches  and  the  huge  sweeps  slowly  began  to 
plunge  through  the  foaming  waves  in  response  to  the 
rhythmic  beat  of  their  leaders.  At  the  appointed  mo- 
ment the  Basileus  himself  gave  the  sign  to  the  patriarch, 


The   Muster  of  the  Crusade 

who  was  stationed  in  a  commanding  spot,  surrounded 
by  his  prelates,  clergy,  deacons,  choir,  and  acolytes, 
who  carried  aloft  the  most  venerated  ikons,  pictures, 
and  crucifixes  that  the  sacred  edifices  could  yield. 

A  profound  hush  then  fell  on  the  vast  throng,  and 
the  rowers  held  up  their  vessels  on  their  oars,  as  one 
by  one  the  captains  ceased  to  shout  and  commanded 
a  solemn  silence  for  prayer.  Then  was  heard  far 
across  the  waters  the  shrill  voice  of  the  aged  Polyeuc- 
tus,  blessing  the  fleet  and  invoking  the  Divine  aid,  and 
ending  with  the  "Holy!  Holy!  Holy!  Triune  God  and 
Blessed  Mother  of  God,  preserve  in  Thy  holy  keeping 
this  army  and  this  fleet  which  goes  forth  to  save  Thy 
people  from  the  apostate  children  of  Ismael!"  Then 
the  choir  took  up  the  words,  and  thrice  repeated  the 
invocation  of  the  patriarch.  This  was  followed  by  a 
hymn,  wherein  the  immense  body  of  monks,  church- 
men, and  catechumens  joined,  so  that  the  volume  of 
voices  rang  out  across  the  sea  to  the  shores  on  the 
other  side  of  the  strait.  And  as  the  last  notes  of  the 
choir  died  away,  a  roar  of  cheers  broke  forth  in  endless 
bursts  of  farewell  and  godspeed  from  the  hundreds  of 
thousands  who  lined  the  walls  and  terraces  and  who 
had  been  gathered  to  see  the  great  departure — from 
the  point  where  the  light -house  stands  on  the  Golden 
Horn  at  the  eastern  corner  of  the  city,  round  to  the 
shore  of  Hebdomon  on  the  western  plain  beyond  the 
walls.  As  each  battle-ship  and  transport  passed  within 
hearing  of  the  mighty  roar  of  voices,  the  crews  and 
troops  on  board  returned  the  shout,  and  the  trumpets 
and  cymbals,  drums  and  fifes,  rang  out  their  martial 
notes  with  a  crashing  sound.  They  were  followed  for 
some  short  distance  by  crowds  of  light -sailing  craft  and 

113 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

gayly  trimmed  caiques,  which  carried  out  to  the  fleet 
the  holiday  sight-seers  from  the  city.  And  so,  with 
wild  hopes,  resounding  cheers,  and  solemn  anthems  of 
prayer  and  blessing,  the  great  crusade  of  the  tenth 
century  sailed  forth  to  do  battle  with  the  Saracen. 

All  through  the  day  the  vast  fleet  of  war-ships  and 
lighter  vessels  kept  on  their  southwesterly  course  in 
the  bright  sunshine,  with  a  gentle  breeze  that  blew 
down  the  straits  from  the  Euxine  Sea,  and  till  late  in 
the  evening  eager  crowds  from  the  city  remained 
watching  the  sight  on  the  walls  and  on  the  open  ter- 
races above.  As  the  last  battle-ship  disappeared  in  the 
offing  they  gathered  in  the  fora  and  porticos  discus- 
sing the  event,  while  the  churches,  shrines,  and  way- 
side oratories  were  filled  with  worshippers  in  suppli- 
cation and  silent  prayer.  All  through  that  eventful 
day,  and  far  into  the  night,  the  priests  and  monks 
throughout  the  city  kept  pouring  forth  their  endless 
chants  and  monotonous  invocations  to  all  the  saints 
and  divinities  in  turn,  amid  ten  thousand  Trisagions 
and  Kyries,  clouds  of  incense  and  procession  of  ikons. 

But  all  this  time  of  national  exultation  and  hope, 
gloom  and  despair  hung  heavily  in  the  massive  con- 
vents wherever  women  who  had  been  forced  to  take 
the  veil  as  nuns  lived  out  their  dreary  lives  ' '  with  the 
angels,"  as  the  euphemism  in  use  would  put  it.  And 
in  none  was  there  a  deeper  despair  than  in  the  Myrel- 
aeon  convent,  where  the  princesses  Anna  and  Agatha 
were  immured.  After  the  terrible  scene  with  their 
brother,  as  told  in  the  last  chapter,  the  queen-mother 
and  her  five  daughters  had  been  dragged  forth  by  the 
eunuchs  and  cubiculars  of  the  Sacred  Palace  and  carried 
off  to  the  convent  of  Canicleion  (or  the  Rubric).     It 

114 


The   Muster  of  the  Crusade 

had  once  been  the  palace  of  the  magnificent  Theoctistus, 
the  finance  minister,  who  held  the  vermilion  seals 
and  had  been  murdered  under  Michael  the  Drunkard, 
when  the  Basileus  had  converted  his  victim's  splendid 
abode  into  a  monastery.  Once  within  its  fatal  portals, 
the  royal  ladies  were  at  the  mercy  of  the  inexorable 
John,  the  abbot  of  the  Stoudion,  who  had  torn  them 
from  the  weakness  of  Romanus.  In  spite  of  their  pro- 
tests, their  shrieks  of  rage,  and  on  the  part  of  the 
younger  women  their  convulsive  struggles,  the  monk 
had  their  long  hair  cut  short,  their  royal  vesture  taken 
off;  and  while  three  sturdy  sisters  held  them  by  main 
force,  they  were  dressed  in  the  coarse  brown  serge 
robes  of  the  order  of  St.  Basil.  They  were  literally 
dragged  to  the  altar  and  the  mockery  of  the  consecra- 
tion service  was  gone  through,  the  fanatic  John  troub- 
ling himself  little  that  the  vows  of  the  order  were  not 
distinctly  uttered  by  any  of  them,  and  were  not  uttered 
at  all,  even  as  a  pretence,  by  the  two  youngest  prin- 
cesses, who  obstinately  refused  to  give  any  consent  to 
the  act  of  their  immolation  as  brides  of  Christ. 

It  was  soon  found  that  the  queen-mother  was  so 
cruelly  affected  in  mind  and  in  body  by  all  that  she  had 
suffered  that  her  very  life  and  reason  were  despaired 
of,  and  Romanus  was  easily  induced  by  her  entreaties 
to  suffer  her  to  return  to  a  secluded  wing  of  the  palace, 
where  she  remained  in  strict  retirement  and  a  hope- 
less invalid  for  the  few  months  that  she  had  still  to 
breathe.  Nor  did  Theophano  herself  offer  any  oppo- 
sition to  this,  when  she  found  the  queen-mother  so 
utterly  fallen  from  power  and  so  feeble  in  body  and 
mind. 

The  five  princesses  in  the  Canicleion  nunnery  were 

"5 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

enabled  to  meet  and  take  counsel  together,  and  by 
their  prestige  as  sisters  of  the  reigning  emperor,  their 
rank  as   undoubted  porphyrogennetoi,  and  their  own 
ability    and   force   of  character,   they   soon   recovered 
much  of  their  influence.     It  became  known  to  the  con- 
fidantes of  the  empress  that  they  were  conspiring  to 
recover  their  liberty  and  rank,  that  in  spite  of  all  the 
exhortations  and  orders  of  the  abbot,  who  insisted  on 
confessing  them  himself,  they  still  retained  in  private 
their  lay  dresses  and  habits,  and  obstinately  declined 
to  observe  the  fastings  and  austere  rules  of  the  order 
to  which  they  were  supposed  to  be  vowed.     Secret 
friends  and  partisans  of  influence  obtained  the  ear  of 
the  politic  Joseph,  who  thought  it  high  time  to  have 
some  counterpoise  to  the  ambition   of  the   empress; 
and  at  length,  by  his   secret  connivance,   the  good- 
natured  Romanus  was  willing  to  mitigate  his  cruel 
decree,   and   a  tacit   compromise  was  effected.     The 
princesses  were  allowed  to  inhabit  royal  palaces  and 
to  receive  the  appanages  and  privileges  of  their  rank, 
upon  their  formal  consent  to  accept  their  consecration 
to  the  virgin  life  of  professed  nuns.     The  three  elder 
princesses   outwardly  conformed  to  this  arrangement. 
They  were  installed  in  the  palace  of  Antiochus,  near 
the  Hippodrome  and  the  great  church  of  St.  Sophia, 
living  like  the  noble  and  royal  canonesses  of  western 
Europe,  but,  except  in  the  matter  of  betrothal  and 
marriage,    not    otherwise    deprived    of   their   imperial 
honors.     And  ultimately,  as  we  know,  the  Princess 
Theodora  became  herself   empress,  as   wife   of  John 
Tzimisces. 

The  two  younger  princesses  stoutly  refused  the  com- 
promise, and  would  not  accept  the  obligation  of  nun- 

116 


The   Muster  of  the  Crusade 

ship;  and  Agatha,  her  father's  favorite  and  the  most 
thoughtful  of  the  whole  family,  insisted  on  treating  the 
ceremony  of  her  consecration  as  a  blasphemous  mock- 
ery. She  persuaded  her  sister  Anna  to  join  her  in  the 
refusal.  Both  of  them  were  therefore  removed  to  a 
still  more  secluded  nunnery,  that  of  Myrelaeon,  a 
palace  formerly  built  by  their  mother's  father,  Leca- 
penus,  when  regent.  It  stood  on  the  upper  reaches 
of  the  Golden  Horn,  at  the  water-side,  not  far  from  the 
walls  beyond  Blachernae.  In  that  which  once  was 
the  guard-room  of  old,  a  chamber  which  hung  over 
the  sea  and  was  far  removed  from  the  sights  and 
gayeties  of  the  city,  the  Princess  Agatha  was  immured 
as  a  prisoner  of  state,  but  even  there  she  was  able  to 
have  occasional  intercourse  with  her  sister  Anna,  and 
also  with  her  aunt,  the  ex-Empress  Augusta  Sophia, 
widow  of  Christopher,  eldest  son  of  Romanus  Lecapenus. 
She  also,  at  the  fall  of  that  family  from  the  purple,  had 
been  consigned  to  the  life  of  a  strict  nun  in  the  same 
convent  of  Myrelaeon.  It  was,  in  truth,  a  kind  of  suttee 
of  Byzantine  manners  that  the  widow  or  discarded  wife 
of  a  fallen  prince  or  noble  should  be  consigned  to  a 
nunnery  in  some  secluded  monastery  near  the  capital. 
The  fall  of  the  House  of  Lecapenus  had  been  so  com- 
plete, and  the  good-will  of  the  Empress  Helena  tow- 
ards her  unfortunate  sister-in-law  was  so  effective,  that 
the  ex-Empress  Augusta  Sophia  was  still  able,  through 
the  old  adherents  of  her  family,  to  obtain  very  consider- 
able authority,  always  short  of  her  own  delivery  from 
the  convent,  which  at  her  age  she  no  longer  sought. 

This  night  she  was  exerting  all  her  powers  of  per- 
suasion to  induce  the  sisters  Anna  and  Agatha  to 
accept  the  conditions  of  comparative  restoration  to 

117 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

lay  life  to  which  the  three  elder  princesses  had  already 
consented.  She  pressed  them  to  remember  the  youth, 
generous  nature,  and  unquestioned  autocracy  of  their 
brother,  the  emperor,  the  hope  of  gradual  improve- 
ment in  their  terms,  and  the  danger  of  further  in- 
censing so  terrible  a  woman  as  the  empress. 

"Twenty  years  have  passed,"  said  the  aged  ex-em- 
press, "since  I,  too,  was  thrust  from  the  Sacred  Palace, 
where  I  once  was  honored  as  the  wife  of  a  Caesar.  I 
have  grown  accustomed  to  my  quiet  lot  in  my  old 
age,  and  I  would  not  now  exchange  these  sombre 
robes  for  those  of  an  Augusta,  even  if  I  could.  I,  too, 
once  had  a  proud  spirit,  but  it  is  broken  and  dead  as 
I  am  to  the  world.  My  sweet  child,  you  will  never  be 
able  to  endure  the  trial.  Yield  to  your  brother,  who 
with  all  his  faults  has  a  heart  to  be  touched,  and 
you  may  yet  find  a  happy  life,  and,  who  knows,  per- 
haps an  illustrious  marriage,  worthy  of  your  birth  in 
the  purple  and  your  royal  race." 

The  clear-sighted  Agatha  might  feel  the  worldly 
wisdom  of  her  aunt's  advice,  which  had  already  brought 
the  gentle  Anna  to  the  melting  mood,  but  the  last  words 
of  the  ex-Empress  Augusta  Sophia,  about  her  birth  and 
royal  race,  touched  a  secret  chord  in  the  heart  of  the 
girl  who  had  so  often  quivered  when  she  heard  it  said 
that  few  were  fit  to  mate  with  princesses  of  the  House 
of  Basil. 

She  flushed,  and  with  a  look  of  resolution  and  fire 
that  would  become  a  virgin  martyr,  she  replied :  "  Never 
will  I  dishonor  myself  and  forswear  the  teaching  that 
my  mother  gave  me,  by  consenting  to  treat  as  a  con- 
secration to  Christ  the  outrage  inflicted  on  me  when 
the  monk  and  his  nuns  forced  on  me  the  mockery  of 

118 


The   Muster  of  the  Crusade 

this  garb.  I  have  poured  out  my  soul  in  prayer  to 
my  Saviour  and  to  His  Blessed  Mother  in  heaven. 
They  have  heard  my  cries  and  my  sorrows,  and  a 
spirit  within  me  has  revealed  it  to  my  heart,  that  the 
good  Lord  Himself  does  not  vouchsafe  to  accept  the 
forced  sacrifice  of  his  devoted  handmaiden.  No,  my 
dear  aunt,  they  may  imprison  me,  they  may  torture 
me,  they  may  kill  me,  but  they  shall  never  force  me 
to  profess  myself  by  a  lie  the  bride  of  Christ!"  This 
conversation  was  now  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
one  of  the  sisters  of  the  nunnery  who  had  been  assigned 
as  attendants  of  the  princess.  She  came,  she  said,  with 
a  peremptory  message  from  the  Abbot  John  himself, 
who  required  the  immediate  presence  of  the  nun,  Sister 
Euphemia,  the  name  given  to  Agatha  "in  religion," 
in  the  confessional  of  the  chapel.  This  unexpected 
summons  the  princess  was  inclined  to  defy,  but  her 
aunt  warned  her  of  the  danger  of  flagrant  disobedience 
to  the  all-powerful  prelate,  and  the  attendant  sister 
whispered  in  her  ear  that  a  great  surprise  and  unex- 
pected deliverance  might  yet  be  in  store  for  her.  The 
princess  accordingly  submitted  to  the  command,  and 
was  conducted  through  the  corridors  to  the  darkened 
chapel  of  the  convent,  where  she  took  her  place 
on  her  knees  in  the  accustomed  place  of  confes- 
sion. The  prelate  was  already  seated  in  his  recess, 
and  as  usual  had  chosen  to  cover  his  whole  person 
in  his  monastic  garb,  and  to  conceal  his  face  in  his 
cowl. 

"My   daughter,"    he   began,    in    a   voice   purposely 

simulated  and  subdued  to  a  whisper,  "I  have  called 

thee  to  confession  to  learn  if  thou  art  still  resolved  to 

resist  the  superior  of  thy  order,  and  to  defy  the  man- 

9  119 


UN1V 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

dates  of"  Mother  Church  in  repudiating  thy  consecra- 
tion to  Christ  as  His  bride." 

"Father,  I  tell  thee  plainly,  for  I  will  treat  thee 
with  more  frankness  and  with  more  courtesy  than  thou 
hast  treated  me — I  am  no  bride  of  Christ.  No  threat 
and  no  cruelty  shall  ever  force  me  to  utter  or  to  act  a 
falsehood,  which  I  hold  to  be  a  profanation  of  His 
holy  name.  I  am  no  bride  in  heaven — no,  nor  shall 
I  ever  be  a  bride  on  earth,"  she  uttered,  with  a  deep 
sigh  that  she  could  not  restrain,  and  abruptly  ended 
her  half-spoken  sentence. 

"My  daughter,  hast  thou  indeed  registered  a  vow 
to  lead  a  solitary  life,  and  never  to  listen  to  the  love 
of  any  man?"  said  the  monk,  with  a  new  eagerness  in 
his  voice,  that  seemed  to  tremble  at  his  own  words. 

"No  man  has  ever  sought  my  love,  I  tell  thee,"  she 
said  haughtily  to  such  a  question,  "nor  will  I,  even  in 
confession,  bring  my  lips  to  utter  what  Agatha  might 
answer  if  he  did.  If  she  ever  had  such  dreams,  they 
are  vanished  in  the  black  night  that  has  fallen  upon 
my  miserable  life.  But  what  means,  my  father  ab- 
bot, this  sudden  summons  to  me  this  night,  and  what 
are  my  maiden  dreams  or  vows  to  thee  or  to  thine? 
Why  am  I  here?     What  is  it  that  thou  askest  of  me? " 

"Royal  lady,"  said  the  monk,  now  dropping  his  voice 
to  an  impassioned  whisper,  "thy  maiden  dreams  are 
all  in  all  to  one  who  loves  thee  better  than  his  own 
soul,  and  who  is  at  this  moment  risking  life,  torture, 
and  mutilation,  in  the  effort  to  protect  and  save  thee. 
Nay,  do  not  start  or  flee,  noblest,  purest,  bravest  of 
women!  Steel  thy  nerves  to  be  still,  and  listen  to  our 
schemes  to  rescue  thee  from  this  dungeon  of  the  priests. 
Nay,  by  the  Mother  of  God!  do  not  move  or  cry  out, 

1 20 


The    Muster  of  the  Crusade 

for  three  sisters  of  the  convent  wait  within  sight  of  us, 
and  only  one  of  them  is  in  our  plot.  Remain  as  thou 
art,  and  listen  to  one  who,  on  the  field  of  battle,  on  the 
stormy  seas,  on  the  solitary  mountains  of  his  home, 
has  learned  to  pray  to  thy  image  along  with  that  of 
the  blessed  Agatha,  whose  name  thou  bearest,  as  the 
true  saint  of  his  faith  and  his  hope.  Listen  to  him 
now,  for  he  has  come  through  fire  and  water  to  save 
thee!" 

At  the  first  words  of  this  most  startling  address  the 
maiden  had  detected  the  manly  tones  of  the  young 
hero  of  her  day-dreams,  and  wild  hopes  and  exulta- 
tion thrilled  through  her  veins  as  she  steeled  herself 
to  retain  her  attitude  of  a  penitent,  and  to  hear  out 
the  mysterious  story  of  the  confessor. 

"See  who  it  is  that  has  dared  to  seek  thee  thus," 
said  he,  as  he  threw  back  the  cowl  and  showed  her 
the  gallant  features  of  Basil  Digenes,  the  Romanized 
son  of  the  emir  of  Edessa. 

"By  the  aid  of  the  venerable  princess,  thy  aunt 
and  fellow-prisoner,  I  have  matured  a  plan  of  escape 
for  thee.  Three  of  the  sisters  of  this  convent  are  our 
confederates  in  the  scheme,  and  by  their  help  I  have 
succeeded  to-night  in  assuming  the  part  of  thy  tyrant, 
the  abbot.  My  own  lady -sister,  Theodosia,  as  thou 
knowest,  the  wife  of  the  patrician,  George  Comnenus, 
is  now  in  her  summer  palace  on  the  island  of  Procon- 
nesus,  where  she  will  receive  and  conceal  thee  until 
the  heart  of  Romanus  is  softened,  for  the  family  of 
the  Comneni  is  too  powerful  to  be  defied.  To-night, 
at  midnight,  I  will  be  waiting  beneath  thy  chamber 
window  with  two  of  thy  ladies  who  served  thee  in 
the  palace,  and  a  stout  crew  of  boatmen.     The  three 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

sisters  of  this  convent  who  are  entirely  devoted  to  our 
service  will  supply  thee  with  fitting  lay  dress,  and  also 
with  a  rope-ladder  to  descend  from  the  window  on  to 
the  waters  below,  where  the  boat  shall  be  ready  to 
convey  thee  to  my  sister.  Thou  hast  heart  for  such 
an  enterprise,  true  daughter  of  the  lion  race  of  Basil, 
I  know  full  well,  if  thou  canst  trust  the  honor  of  the 
son  of  the  Saracen,"  said  the  enamored  young  hero 
of  the  marches,  who,  even  in  his  stormy  life  of  ad- 
venture, had  never  embarked  upon  a  more  chivalrous 
escapade.  He  gazed  on  the  maiden  with  a  deep  and 
rapturous  appeal  in  his  countenance. 

Agatha  paused  and  communed  with  herself.  Then 
without  a  word  she  took  the  hand  of  the  pretended 
confessor,  and  gently  pressed  it  with  her  own. 

"And  can  Agatha  learn  to  love  him  whom  she  has 
already  learned  to  trust?"  said  her  ardent  lover,  as 
he  kissed  her  hand  again  and  again. 

"It  will  be  time  to  speak  to  her  of  love,"  she  said, 
softly,  "when  Agatha  has  put  off  the  garb  of  Euphe- 
mia  the  nun.  But  that  I  will  do  this  very  night,  with 
the  help  of  Our  Lady  in  heaven  above.  Into  her  holy 
keeping  I  commit  my  body  and  my  soul!" 


X 

The  Conquest  of  Crete 

THE  scene  now  shifts  to  that  magnificent  island  of 
southern  Greece,  whence  in  prehistoric  ages  so 
many  germs  of  ancient  civilization  had  been  carried  to 
the  main-land.  The  northern  headlands  and  bays  of 
Crete  were  still  wrapped  in  dim  twilight,  while  a 
glorious  sun  of  July  had  tinted  the  topmost  crags  of 
Mount  Ida,  and  its  beams  gradually  swept  downward 
on  to  the  lower  ranges,  upland  pasturages,  woodlands, 
and  teeming  meadows  of  that  beautiful  island.  From 
point  to  point,  as  the  day  rose,  the  eye  caught  sight 
of  bands  of  swarthy  Africans,  for  the  most  part  in  white 
tunics,  armed  with  spear  and  sword,  while  mailed  emirs 
in  turbans  and  snowy  burnoose  hurriedly  passed  from 
post  to  post  across  the  glens.  Light-clad  messengers 
on  quick  Arab  barbs  dashed  across  the  open  spaces 
or  scrambled  up  the  rocky  path  to  some  castle  on  its 
pinnacle  of  stone.  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach  the  whole 
coast  seemed  alive  with  excitement  and  moving  hosts. 
From  the  bay  that  faces  the  petty  islet  then  called 
Dia,  a  small  band  of  Arab  spearmen  were  hurriedly 
dragging  three  bound  prisoners  to  an  eminence  which 
commanded  a  range  of  view  both  east  and  west.  There 
was  displayed  on  a  lofty  lance-head  the  streaming 
standard  of  the  chief  emir,  around  whom  were  grouped 

123 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

camels  and  barbs  with  embroidered  housings,  mailed 
warriors,  and  ebon  footmen  from  the  Soudan.  When 
the  party  had  dragged  their  captives  to  the  com- 
mander, by  a  gesture  he  ordered  them  to  be  brought 
to  his  presence,  and  called  for  an  interpreter  to  put 
his  question  in  the  Greek  tongue.  The  Emir  Abd-el- 
Aziz,  the  governor  of  Crete,  looked  what  he  was,  one 
of  the  heroes  of  Islam  in  the  long  death-grapple  which 
for  seven  centuries  and  a  half  the  Crescent  maintained 
against  the  Cross  of  Rome.  He  well  knew  the  vital 
importance  of  defending  the  island  which  his  creed 
had  held  for  one  hundred  and  thirty  years.  All  his 
demands  for  help  from  the  Asian  side  had  been  para- 
lyzed by  the  internal  confusions  of  the  caliphate  of 
the  East.  The  urgent  embassy  he  had  despatched  to 
the  great  Abd-er-Rahman,  the  caliph  of  Spain,  had  not 
yet  returned.  Left  with  his  single  island  force  to  meet 
the  mighty  host  and  navy  of  Rome,  he  strained  every 
nerve  to  resist  the  Christians  to  the  death. 

"Who  are  these  men,  and  where  were  they  taken?" 
he  asked  the  leader  of  the  band  who  had  brought 
them — the  captain,  in  fact,  of  one  of  the  corsairs  which 
had  scoured  the  iEgean  Sea  with  such  success. 

"  Last  night,"  said  the  seamen,  "  as  we  were  watching 
the  advance  of  the  misbelievers,  we  sighted  three  of 
his  despatch-boats  on  the  lookout  for  a  good  landing. 
We  cut  off  one  of  them,  and  after  a  stout  fight  dragged 
the  survivors  ashore,  Allah  be  praised!" 

"What  have  you  learned  of  the  enemy's  strength?" 
said  the  emir. 

"We  have  sighted  three  squadrons,  each  of  which 
is  believed  to  contain  more  than  one  hundred  sail. 
And  they  are  within  a  few  hours  of  the  coast." 

124 


The  Conquest  of  Crete 

"Require  the  prisoners  to  report  the  strength  of  the 
enemy  and  the  place  where  they  seek  to  land.  If  they 
speak,  they  shall  be  free  to  serve  the  one  God  and  His 
Prophet.  If  they  refuse,  send  for  the  provost  marshal 
and  his  men." 

The  alternative  was  duly  interpreted  to  the  wretched 
captives,  bleeding  with  their  wounds  and  panting  from 
the  haste  with  which  they  had  been  dragged.  A  smile 
of  defiance  was  their  only  answer.  The  two  foremost 
prisoners  were  seamen  from  Chios;  the  third  was  no 
soldier,  but  a  landsman  from  Thessalonica,  pressed 
into  the  service  of  the  oars. 

One  of  the  emir's  staff  now  stepped  forward  and 
took  charge  of  the  question.  "One!"  he  shouted; 
and  as  the  prisoner  neither  spoke  nor  moved,  the  pro- 
vost marshal's  men  slashed  off  his  ears  and  his  nose. 
Not  a  groan  escaped  the  prisoner. 

"Two!"  he  shouted,  and  within  two  minutes  more 
the  wretch  was  flung  on  the  ground  and  his  eyes 
were  gouged  out  in  sight  of  his  shuddering  com- 
rades. 

Silence  ensued,  broken  only  by  the  moans  of  the 
sufferer  with  his  muttered  prayer  to  the  Mother  of 
God  and  the  stifled  groans  of  the  two  who  were  await- 
ing the  same  fate. 

"Three!"  and  all  around  held  their  breath  to  listen; 
but  no  sound  passed  the  Chian's  lips,  and  he  bit  his 
lips  to  choke  his  moan.  A  deathly  pause  followed. 
"Christ  receive  me,"  muttered  the  man.  Then,  with 
a  sign  from  the  captain,  a  scimitar  crashed  through 
the  victim's  neck,  and  his  mutilated  head  rolled  to  the 
feet  of  his  companions  in  agony. 

The  sickening  scene  was  repeated  with  the  second 
I25 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Chian,  who  suffered  and  died  with  the  same  stoical 
silence. 

But  as  his  head  rolled  towards  the  Thessalonian  pris- 
oner and  covered  him  with  blood,  the  courage  of  the 
third  man  gave  way,  and  with  a  shriek  he  offered  to 
disclose  all  he  knew. 

A  long  and  close  examination,  carried  on  with  no 
small  persuasion  from  the  instruments  of  torture  and 
mutilation  so  liberally  displayed  by  the  provost  mar- 
shal and  his  men,  at  length  wrung  from  the  prisoner 
a  full  and  fairly  accurate  description  of  the  forces  led 
by  Nicephorus,  and  also  of  the  place  and  time  in 
which  they  might  be  expected  to  disembark. 

The  emir  now  called  a  council  of  war,  and,  giving  his 
lieutenants  his  final  orders,  sent  mounted  men  in  every 
direction  to  marshal  his  host  for  the  coming  struggle. 
The  bay,  with  its  sandy  beach  on  which  the  prisoners 
had  been  brought  ashore,  seemed  the  spot  where  the 
Christian  host  would  attempt  to  land.  And  Abd-el- 
Aziz  with  promptitude  and  skill  arranged  his  forces 
in  a  circle  round  the  amphitheatre  which  commanded 
the  bay.  He  had  hardly  finished  his  dispositions  when 
the  great  fleet  was  descried  in  the  offing,  as  in  three 
separate  squadrons  it  bore  down  to  concentrate  in  the 
bay.  Shouts  of  triumph,  war-songs  from  a  thousand 
throats,  chants  to  Allah,  and  the  name  of  his  Prophet 
mingled  with  the  sound  of  horses  and  camels  and  the 
orders  and  incitements  of  the  emirs  in  command. 

Slowly  and  in  uniform  mass  the  Roman  fleet  moved 
on,  till  it  filled  the  entire  bay,  and  came  so  near  the 
shore  that  the  voices  of  the  captains  could  be  heard 
on  land.  The  huge  chelandion,  The  Archangel  Michael, 
the  flag-ship  of  the  commander,  was  in  the  centre,  and 

126 


The  Conquest  of  Crete 

from  it  there  was  now  sent  forth  a  powerful  barge  pro- 
pelled by  twenty-four  oarsmen,  on  which  stood  Niceph- 
orus  in  person  to  direct  the  entire  movement.  For 
a  space,  both  mighty  hosts  waited  in  silence,  watching 
for  the  first  opportunity  to  strike.  Then  Nicephorus, 
bareheaded  and  unarmed — for  he  had  laid  aside  his 
helmet,  corselet,  greaves,  and  his  spear  and  sword — 
stood  up  at  the  prow  of  his  barge,  and,  raising  his 
hands  aloft,  and  gazing  upward  to  heaven,  offered  in 
the  sight  of  Christian  and  infidel  his  solemn  dedication 
of  his  force  to  Christ. 

"Almighty  Creator  of  this  Thy  universe,  behold  the 
army  of  Thy  people  at  the  frontier  of  Thy  enemies. 
Look  down  on  them.  Thou  who  canst  destroy  with  a 
breath  the  thousand  towers  of  the  ungodly,  strengthen 
the  hearts  of  Thy  chosen  soldiers.  Root  out  from  them 
any  craven  fear.  Bring  to  shame  the  promises  of  the 
false  prophets  who  set  themselves  against  Thee.  Show 
forth  this  day  who  is  the  true  Peter  and  who  is  the 
author  of  false  lies.  Make  manifest,  0  Lord,  who  it 
is  that  is  the  camel-driver,  who  is  the  profligate,  who 
is  the  contriver  of  all  craft  and  abomination!" 

Such  was  the  prayer  reported  in  the  iambics  of 
Theodosius  the  deacon,  who  was  present  in  the  ex- 
pedition as  chaplain  on  the  high  admiral's  flag-ship, 
and  was  full  of  thoughts  to  adorn  the  immortal  Iliad 
he  designed  on  "  The  Capture  of  Crete"  in  five  cantos, 
which  have  come  down  to  us  after  a  thousand  years. 
And  in  the  same  veracious  poem  we  learn  that  the 
ever -victorious  commander  of  the  crusade  then 
caused  himself  to  be  fully  armed.  He  put  on  his 
golden  corselet  and  plumed  helmet,  and,  equipped  with 
his  buckler  and  mighty  spear,  he  bade  the  oarsmen 

127 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

row  his  barge  along  the  line  of  battle-ships,  while  he 
thus  addressed  his  men  in  that  voice  of  thunder  which 
they  knew  and  loved: 

"Soldiers,  captains,  my  friends,  my  children,  fellow- 
servants  of  the  Most  High,  ye  who  are  the  sinews  of 
Rome  and  liegemen  of  our  sovereign  lord  the  king, 
look  at  this  fair  shore  and  island,  with  its  rich  and 
fragrant  pastures,  valleys,  hills,  and  bright  towns. 
Once  all  these  were  part  and  parcel  of  our  Rome,  our 
fatherland — once  they  were  in  the  realm  of  our  king. 
Once,  I  say,  in  years  gone  by,  till  sloth  and  vice  be- 
trayed them  to  the  enemy,  drove  out  our  people  and 
gave  them  to  the  infidel.  Charge  these  barbarians, 
then,  with  a  stout  heart.  Take  their  cities  with  your 
swords.  Take  their  women,  take  their  children,  and 
their  children's  children.  Ye  have  nothing  to  fear 
from  their  puny  darts.  Ye  need  not  be  amazed  if 
they  do  draw  your  blood.  Wash  out  your  sins  with  the 
red  blood  of  the  misbelievers — these  blaspheming  sav- 
ages. They  who  fall  will  be  honored  by  our  lord  and 
master,  who  will  amply  provide  for  their  women  and 
children.  This  is  my  last  word,  men.  Hold  your 
shields  firm  and  close.  Clinch  your  spears  well  in 
front.  Show  yourselves  true  sons  of  Rome.  Let  not 
that  great  name  be  put  to  shame  by  you!" 

While  the  chief  had  been  speaking,  the  Saracen  bat- 
talions had  rapidly  drawn  down  to  the  shore,  and  were 
now  arrayed  in  long,  dense  lines  round  the  bay,  both 
horse  and  foot,  prepared  to  contest  the  landing;  but 
their  javelins  were  not  powerful  enough  to  reach  the 
ships. 

"Bowmen,  advance!"  now  roared  the  admiral,  and 
a  hundred  captains  re-echoed  the  order  along  the  line. 

128 


The  Conquest  of  Crete 

Instantly  a  swarm  of  barges  advanced  with  long  sweeps 
to  the  beach,  each  holding  fifty  bowmen  from  the 
Thracian  and  Dyrrachian  highlands,  armed  with  the 
most  effective  weapons  of  that  age.  These  poured 
upon  the  Saracens'  lines  a  rain  of  arrows  and  bolts  so 
dense  and  deadly  that  it  completely  broke  the  ranks 
of  the  defenders.  They  fell  back  sullenly  from  bank 
to  bank,  leaving  the  shore  strewn  with  dead  and 
wounded  men,  horses,  camels,  and  mules. 

The  gallant  emir  now  reformed  his  broken  forces 
on  a  higher  range  of  hills,  just  out  of  bow-shot  from 
the  ships.  Then  they  beheld  the  advance  of  the  main 
Christian  host.  The  ships  were  driven  straight  on  to 
the  sandy  shore,  and  from  them  descended  masses  of 
heavy-armed  foot-soldiers,  with  round  bucklers,  long 
spears,  and  massive  battle-axes.  Forming  up  in  close 
phalanx,  these  Macedonian  guards,  in  hauberk  and 
round  helmets,  fixed  shield  to  shield  like  an  iron  wall, 
and  advanced  in  dense  array  to  the  charge.  They  were 
led  on  the  right  wing  by  the  Russians  and  Norsemen  of 
the  imperial  guard,  whose  huge  stature,  fair,  long  hair, 
and  gleaming  halberds  formed  a  strange  contrast  to 
the  lighter  arms  of  the  swarthy  and  wiry  children  of 
the  desert. 

On  came  the  Roman  phalanx  without  a  pause,  for 
the  slighter  javelins  and  missiles  of  the  Saracen  could 
make  but  small  impression  on  the  closely  locked  wall 
of  the  Varangian  shields.  In  the  midst  of  each  bat- 
talion was  seen  a  bishop  with  his  canons  in  stole,  alb, 
and  chasuble,  bearing  aloft  a  crucifix  of  gold,  orna- 
mented with  jewels  and  enamel,  and  a  fragment  of 
the  true  Cross.  They  broke  forth  into  a  hymn  to  the 
Mother  of  God,  whom  they  invoked  to  lead  them  on 

129 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

to  victory.'  And  in  the  hymn  the  mailed  infantry  of 
Rome  joined;  and  from  ten  thousand  throats  broke 
forth  the  prayer  to  Christ  to  aid  His  soldiers  against 
the  miscreant  railers  of  His  holy  name.  So  they 
marched  steadily  on  to  the  foot  of  the  hills,  whereon 
the  Hagarenes  were  massed.  Then  at  the  sound  of 
"Charge!"  with  fierce  yells  and  shouts  of  "Rome!" 
"Christ!"  and  "Mary!"  they  rushed  up  the  heights, 
the  warlike  and  poetic  deacon  tells  us,  "like  mountain- 
lions,"  in  his  enthusiasm  as  he  watched  them  from  his 
barge. 

The  lighter  army  of  the  emir  could  not  stand  the 
shock  of  this  tremendous  phalanx,  so  far  heavier  in 
men,  arms,  and  numbers,  and  with  all  their  courage 
and  skill  they  wavered  and  fell  back.  Then  a  sight, 
strange,  indeed,  to  these  children  of  the  desert,  struck 
wonder  and  dismay  into  their  ranks.  It  was  a  new 
device  to  which  Nicephorus  and  his  engineers  had  given 
all  their  thoughts.  The  bulky  transports  of  shallow 
draft,  on  which  the  cavalry  had  been  stowed,  were 
driven  ashore  till  they  grounded  on  the  sand.  Their 
bulwarks  opened,  and  from  them  were  lowered  by 
cranes  broad  and  stout  bridges,  which  had  been  slung 
to  the  masts,  so  as  to  form  a  gangway  from  the  deck 
to  the  beach.  Thence  poured  out  dense  squadrons  of 
cavalry  fully  equipped  with  lance  and  mail.  They 
scoured  the  plain  from  end  to  end  as  they  slew  the 
broken  fugitives  and  the  helpless  wounded.  Fore- 
most among  these  terrible  horsemen  were  the  cata- 
phracti  or  cuirassiers,  mostly  Sarmatians  or  Anatolians, 
from  the  Asian  steppes,  clad  in  close-fitting  coats  and 
greaves  of  mail  from  head  to  foot,  and  using  alter- 
nately the  bow,  the  sword,  the  light  lance,  and  a  small, 


The  Conquest  of  Crete 

round  shield.  These  nimble  and  expert  troopers  cut 
up  the  broken  ranks  of  the  Saracens,  trampled  down 
all  who  had  turned  to  fly,  and  left  no  living  thing  on 
the  field  where  they  had  passed. 

In  the  midst  of  the  roar  of  battle  the  poetic  deacon 
clung  to  the  commander-in-chief,  who,  now  on  his 
charger,  and  with  his  staff,  commanded  the  cavalry 
in  person.  It  was  even  now  his  chief  care  to  prevent 
his  forces,  in  their  heat,  from  becoming  too  far  scattered 
over  the  broken  country.  He  knew  that  with  his  vast 
fleet  of  transports  and  barges  the  sea  was  a  danger 
greater  than  the  Saracen  army.  This  was  now  effectu- 
ally repelled  and  shattered.  The  whole  ground  they 
had  occupied  was  strewn  with  their  dead.  Far  as  the 
eye  could  see,  every  village  was  in  flames  and  every 
post  of  the  enemy  was  sacked  and  levelled.  Gallop- 
ing to  the  nearest  homestead,  Nicephorus  sternly  bade 
his  men  reform  in  order  to  re-embark.  He  ordered 
them  to  cease  the  wanton  slaughter  of  women  and 
children,  whom  the  Sarmatians  and  Anatolians  were 
engaged  in  massacring  like  sheep.  With  his  own  hand 
he  cut  down  a  ferocious  Cappadocian  whom  he  saw 
in  the  act  of  hacking  to  pieces  an  infant. 

At  this  moment  the  general  was  attracted  by  the 
shrieks  of  a  woman  who  dashed  out  of  one  of  the 
houses,  the  roof  of  which  was  already  on  fire.  She 
was  closely  pursued  by  a  band  of  wild,  irregular  horse- 
men from  the  Caucasian  border,  who,  furious  and 
blood-stained,  were  following  her  like  hounds  after 
their  prey.  Her  dress,  which  had  been  that  of  the 
Moors,  was  torn  in  shreds,  and  only  half  concealed 
her  fair  limbs  and  graceful  form.  She  rushed  scream- 
ing to  the  presence  of  the  general,  whom  she  addressed 

131 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

in  gasps,  but  in  the  pure  Greek  tongue.  "Save  me, 
keep  back  these  wretches!"  she  cried.  "lama  Roman, 
the  daughter  of  a  senator,  and  a  worshipper  of  Christ 
and  His  Mother."  "Who  art  thou,  my  daughter?" 
said  the  chief.  "I  am  Theodora,  the  only  child  of 
Cedrenus,  once  governor  of  Cappadocia.  I  was  capt- 
ured by  corsairs  while  on  a  voyage  across  the  ^Egean 
Sea  to  join  my  father,  dragged  to  this  island,  where  I 
have  been  for  two  years  the  slave  of  the  Emir  Nazired- 
din,  whose  house  these  savage  men  have  sacked  and 
burned." 

"  Hast  thou  forsworn  Christ  and  His  Holy  Mother?" 
asked  the  chief. 

"Never  have  I  done  so  in  thought,  word,  or  deed, 
most  noble  lord,  though  I  have  been  forced  to  submit 
to  the  indignities  and  to  listen  to  the  blasphemies 
of  these  unbelievers.  My  master,  who  had  wives  of 
his  own  creed,  cared  little  what  were  the  thoughts  of 
a  slave,  or  what  were  her  prayers." 

"Are  there  many  Roman  women,  Christians  and 
virtuous,  in  like  case?" 

"There  are  hundreds  in  every  town  along  the  coast, 
who  have  been  seized  in  ships  at  sea  or  carried  off  from 
the  storming  of  a  seaport  in  the  empire.  This  island 
must  now  contain  at  least  twenty  thousand  Roman 
women  such  as  I  am,  forced  to  wear  the  garb  of  Islam 
and  to  serve  the  followers  of  the  Prophet — all  young — 
for  the  rest  they  kill  off  at  sight  as  useless  encum- 
brances." 

"Go  in  safety  and  in  honor,  my  daughter,"  said  Ni- 
cephorus,  gently,  "these  officers  of  mine  shall  see  to 
your  protection."  His  brow  darkened,  and  he  called 
round  him  his  chief  officers  and  secretaries.     He  said: 

132 


The  Conquest  of  Crete 

"See  that  this  orgy  be  stopped  and  bring  back  my 
army  to  our  ships.  This  Christian  and  innocent  girl 
is  the  daughter  of  my  friend  and  comrade — whose  soul 
may  God  receive  in  mercy — and  she  was  like  to  be  out- 
raged and  massacred  by  my  own  men  under  my  very 
eyes.  Our  work  in  the  Lord  is  not  half  done  until  we 
save  and  rescue  these  miserable  daughters  of  our  peo- 
ple and  bring  them  back  to  our  country  and  to  Christ." 

Nicephorus,  whose  life  had  been  passed  in  continual 
battle  with  the  sons  of  Hagar,  was  far  from  sharing  in 
the  wild  exultation  of  his  soldiers;  nor  did  he  at  all 
believe  that  his  first  victory,  however  brilliant,  was 
enough  to  complete  the  campaign.  He  well  knew  the 
courage,  the  resolution,  the  fanaticism  of  the  Saracens 
of  the  East,  and  especially  of  the  race  which  had  held 
Crete  for  nearly  a  century  and  a  half  against  all  the 
power  of  Rome.  He  took  up  fortified  positions  on  the 
northern  coast,  supported  by  his  fleet,  which  block- 
aded every  port.  He  sent  forth  strong  detachments 
to  secure  the  principal  centres.  And  he  despatched  a 
powerful  force  of  cavalry  and  mounted  infantry  under 
Pastilas,  a  general  of  valor  and  experience,  into  the 
heart  of  the  island,  with  strict  orders  to  keep  constant 
watch  both  day  and  night  against  surprises,  and  to 
practise  the  utmost  caution  against  the  wiles  of  the 
treacherous  foe. 

A  terrible  blow  justified  his  warning.  For  days 
Pastilas  had  been  sending  despatches  to  report  that 
his  squadrons  had  swept  everything  before  them  and 
had  seized  immense  booty — horses,  camels,  cattle,  pro- 
visions, and  valuables  without  limit — and  were  con- 
centrating in  the  great  central  plain,  whence  they  would 
dominate  the  whole  island. 

133 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Nicephorus  sat  late  one  night  in  his  tent  pondering 
his  plans  with  a  map  and  studying  reports  of  his  scouts, 
when  his  officers  gave  notice  of  a  mounted  messenger 
advancing  at  a  gallop.  In  a  moment  the  horseman, 
bedraggled,  torn,  and  bleeding  as  he  was,  flung  himself 
from  his  foaming  and  exhausted  mount,  and  threw 
himself  down  before  the  chief. 

"A  great  disaster,  my  lord  general,  an  ambush,  a 
rout  of  our  force,  of  which  I  am  one  of  the  few  surviv- 
ors. Our  commander  and  all  his  officers  slain.  Every- 
thing and  every  man  the  prey  of  the  Hagarenes.  They 
drew  our  whole  force  into  a  trap,  as  it  passed  through 
a  wooded  defile,  and  surrounded  us  on  every  side. 
Pastilas  died  fighting  like  a  lion  at  bay.  But  his  entire 
command  is  destroyed,  save  a  few  fugitives,  of  whom 
I  am  one." 

"And  my  orders?"  said  the  chief.  "Where  were 
the  scouts,  the  outposts,  the  eyes  of  the  general?" 

"It  is  not  for  me,  a  plain  captain  of  the  Defensors, 
with  the  reserve,  stationed  far  to  the  rear,  whence  I 
could  see  and  learn  little,  to  pass  judgment  on  my 
commander.  And  I  fear  me  much  that  no  one  of 
his  officers  in  the  main  battle  survives.  Pastilas  had 
captured  and  dispersed  scores  of  the  enemy's  detach- 
ments, had  swept  the  land  without  a  check,  had  seized 
horses,  stores,  slaves,  women,  wine,  and  gold;  and  his 
men  could  not  be  held  from  revelry,  riot,  and  sloth." 

Nicephorus  listened  in  silence,  with  lips  drawn  tight, 
and  breathing  hard.  He  dismissed  the  messenger  with 
a  gesture,  and  groaned  to  himself.  "Thus  was  Crete 
lost  to  Rome  by  our  ancestors.  Thus  will  Rome  be 
lost  to  Christ,  unless  His  people  turn  their  hearts  to 
understand  the  desperate  war  they  have  to  wage  with 

134 


The  Conquest  of  Crete 

the  False  Prophet.  A  brave  man  was  Pastilas,  who 
has  served  Rome  and  God  right  well  until  this  day. 
May  he  find  mercy  above!  On  earth  he  will  be  re- 
membered as  one  who  brought  this  cause  a  second 
time  to  the  verge  of  ruin." 

The  chief  had  hardly  overestimated  the  gravity  of 
the  situation.  The  Saracen  hosts  were  now  all  drawn 
into  their  vast  central  citadel  of  Chandax,  whence  they 
issued  in  continual  sorties  and  raids  both  by  day  and 
night.  The  tremendous  fortress  was  closely  belea- 
guered, but  the  strain  of  so  great  a  siege  wore  down  the 
Roman  army,  decimated  by  three  successive  blows — 
the  overwhelming  of  Pastilas,  with  the  flower  of  the 
cavalry,  next  the  incessant  sorties  and  ambuscades, 
and,  lastly,  fever,  cold,  and  want  of  food.  The  magnif- 
icent host  that  had  set  forth  so  proudly  in  midsummer 
from  the  Golden  Horn  had  dwindled  to  a  third  in  the 
winter,  and  the  immense  stores  it  carried  were  ex- 
hausted. The  Saracen  stronghold  was  indeed  at  its 
last  extremity.  But  all  through  that  terrible  winter  it 
was  hard  to  say  if  the  defenders  or  the  besiegers  were  in 
the  worst  plight  or  were  the  nearer  to  famine  and  ex- 
haustion. Easter  of  961  a.d.  was  at  hand,  when,  at 
the  urgent  demand  of  Nicephorus,  a  new  levy  was  sent 
out  with  adequate  supplies  under  the  command  of 
Basil  Digenes,  the  Acritas,  the  chivalrous  warden  of 
the  marches.     It  was,  indeed,  sorely  needed. 

The  vast  stronghold  of  the  Saracens  of  Crete  looked 
as  proud  and  as  menacing  as  ever.  Chandax  —  so 
named  from  the  fosse,  within  which  the  first  Mussul- 
man conquerors  of  the  island  had  intrenched  them- 
selves one  hundred  and  thirty  years  before — rose  from 
a  precipitous  rock  overhanging  the  northern  coast  of 

135 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  island;  and  in  successive  generations  it  had  been 
raised  to  be  one  of  the  most  powerful  fortresses  of  the 
Eastern  world.  Its  huge  walls  were  defended  with  a 
long  chain  of  lofty  towers,  from  the  battlements  of 
which  swarthy  bowmen  shot  down  every  living  thing 
that  approached  the  circuit,  while  the  gates  and  pos- 
terns would  suddenly  pour  forth  by  day  or  by  night 
bands  of  light  horse  or  foot  which  harassed  the  camp, 
burned  the  engines,  and  cut  off  the  pickets. 

The  Moslem  fortress  was  now  closely  invested  and 
cut  off  from  all  succor  by  a  range  of  trenches  and 
earthworks  running  round  it  from  sea  to  sea,  and  it 
was  attacked  night  and  day  by  every  device  known 
to  the  siege-train  of  the  tenth  century,  an  art  in  which 
the  Byzantines  had  preserved  and  greatly  extended 
the  traditions  and  machines  of  old  Rome.  All  at- 
tempts to  scale  the  lofty  curtain  with  ladders  had 
been  beaten  off  with  fearful  loss,  after  desperate  com- 
bats at  all  hours  of  day  or  night.  Protected  by  mant- 
lets, hurdles  wattled  with  osiers  and  covered  with  hides, 
the  besiegers  had  pushed  on  their  works  close  up  to 
the  walls,  which  they  now  battered  with  huge  rams 
and  pierced  with  sharp-headed  bores.  The  rams  were 
worked  each  by  some  sixty  men,  who  were  protected 
by  a  pent-house  of  timber  covered  with  hides.  The 
bore  had  already  loosened  blocks  in  the  base  of  the 
wall,  but  the  defenders  within  continually  crushed 
the  ram  or  bore  with  massive  stones,  or  seized  the 
head  with  forked  beams,  which  caught  it  in  a  vise, 
while  the  rain  of  missiles  from  above,  with  boiling 
pitch  and  every  form  of  combustible,  cut  down  the 
assailants  and  destroyed  their  engines.  The  losses 
within   the  city  were   equally  severe.      Protected  by 

136 


The  Conquest  of  Crete 

pent-houses,  like  the  rams  and  bores,  but  farther  be- 
hind their  earthworks,  the  Romans  plied  their  huge 
catapults,  which  hurled  masses  of  rock  and  iron 
into  the  fortress,  keeping  up  an  incessant  bombard- 
ment. They  also  used  the  balista,  an  immense  fixed 
cross-bow,  which  shot  bolts  with  extraordinary  force 
and  precision  upon  the  battlements,  whereon  nothing 
living  could  stand  exposed  without  certain  destruc- 
tion. 

From  morn  till  night  the  commander-in-chief,  with 
his  principal  officers,  inspected  the  works,  ordered  some 
new  device,  or  searched  for  some  weak  spot  in  the  de- 
fence. It  was  after  a  strenuous  day  in  the  seventh 
month  of  the  siege,  as  the  sun  was  setting  in  crimson 
glory  behind  the  spurs  of  Mount  Ida,  that  Nicephorus 
and  his  trusted  Digenes  Acritas  were  watching  the 
success  of  a  new  engine  of  assault  that  had  been  pre- 
pared with  great  pains.  It  was  a  tower  of  three  stages, 
constructed  of  massive  beams  protected  by  frames  and 
hides  and  crowned  with  a  stout  roof.  It  was  now  being 
rolled  forward  on  broad  wheels  to  afford  means  of 
scaling  the  walls.  The  assault  at  this  moment  was  a 
terrific  sight.  The  catapults  and  balista?  were  pouring 
out  on  the  ramparts  stones,  bolts,  and  bombs  filled 
with  the  famous  Greek  fire.  The  earthworks  of  the 
besiegers  were  garnished  with  poles,  on  which  stood 
impaled  the  ghastly  heads  of  Saracens  slain  in  the 
sorties.  From  time  to  time  the  ferocious  ribaldry  of 
the  camp  led  the  brutal  soldiery  to  hurl  into  the  city 
these  grinning  trophies  of  their  slaughter,  to  appall  their 
living  comrades.  The  horrid  jest  of  this  day  had  been 
to  hurl  from  the  largest  of  the  catapults  a  living  mule, 
in  derision  of  the  famine  within  the  citadel;  and  the 

*37 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Roman  army  roared  with  delight  as  the  wretched  brute 
dashed  quivering  down  upon  the  loftiest  tower. 

Nicephorus  and  his  staff  anxiously  watched  the  slow 
advance  of  the  great  wooden  turret  filled  with  troops 
ready  to  swing  bridges,  planks,  and  ladders  on  to  the 
rampart.  The  whizzing  of  the  missiles,  the  shouts  of 
the  Romans,  answered  by  barbaric  yells  from  the  walls, 
the  roar  of  the  flames  as,  one  after  another,  the  engines 
of  the  defenders  or  of  the  assailants  caught  fire,  made 
a  truly  infernal  din.  "See!  general,"  called  out  the 
warden  of  the  marches,  "the  turret  is  within  twenty 
feet  of  the  wall  and  on  a  level  with  the  rampart — 
fifteen! — ten  feet!  Down  with  the  scaling -bridge!" 
he  roared.  And  crashing  went  the  gangway  from  the 
front  of  the  pent-house.  But  as  he  spoke,  the  soft 
earth  in  the  newly  filled  fosse  whereon  the  turret  stood 
gave  way.  The  gangway  fell  short,  the  turret  toppled 
and  split.  The  besiegers  hurled  on  it  bolts,  rocks, 
boiling  pitch,  and  fire-balls;  and  presently  it  collapsed 
with  a  sudden  crash,  and  fell  in  a  heap,  mangling  and 
burying  the  men  inside  it  and  beneath  it,  and  at  once  it 
blazed  up  a  huge  mass  of  burning  timber.  "No, "  said 
the  field-marshal,  "as  I  feared,  no  turret  lofty  enough 
to  overtop  these  walls  can  be  brought  up  to  work  on 
such  a  ground  as  this.  If  rams  and  turrets  fail  us,  we 
must  fall  back  or  resort  to  a  mine." 

The  destruction  of  the  great,  movable  turret,  on  the 
success  of  which  such  hopes  and  fears  had  been  placed, 
caused  the  ranks  of  assailants  and  defenders  to  pause 
for  a  space,  while  both  were  watching  the  effect  of  the 
blazing  pile.  A  lull  ensued  in  the  storm  of  battle, 
which  was  interrupted  by  a  strange  incident  such  as 
the  superstition  of  that  age  invested  with  supernatural 

13S 


The   Conquest  of  Crete 

effect.  On  the  battlement  of  the  topmost  tower  there 
now  appeared  the  gaunt,  dishevelled  figure  of  the  wild 
woman  who  had  long  been  known  to  both  armies  as 
the  "Witch  of  Nejd."  The  Saracens  devoutly  be- 
lieved, and  the  Christians  with  terror  admitted,  that 
by  intercourse  with  the  infernal  powers,  and  by  in- 
cantations that  she  inherited  from  Sabasan  and  pagan 
ancestors,  she  could  work  spells  on  those  whom  she 
devoted  to  her  Satanic  spirits.  Her  long,  black  hair 
hung  round  her  loosely,  in  wild  folds.  Her  bony  arms 
held  aloft  a  brazier,  into  which  she  dropped  aromatic 
drugs,  and  her  loose  robes  floated  in  the  wind  as  she 
shrieked  out  her  maledictions  on  the  Christian  soldiers 
beneath: 

"Blaspheming  followers  of  the  Nazarene!"  she 
screamed,  "see  the  foretaste  of  the  blazing  ruin  that 
awaits  your  souls,  even  as  fire  is  now  consuming  your 
ruined  turret.  Each  flash  from  this  pan  is  the  answer 
of  my  Lord,  the  mighty  Sheitan  of  the  world  below, 
that  ye  and  yours — your  women,  your  children,  your 
cattle,  and  your  goods — shall  be  utterly  consumed. 
And  you,  proud,  bloody,  lecherous  emir  of  the  Naza- 
renes,  you  shall  be  slaughtered  like  an  ox  on  your  own 
bed  by  the  foul  woman  to  whom  you  have  sold  your- 
self. In  the  name  of  the  prince  of  hell,  I  devote  you 
all  to  death  on  this  field,  and  to  burning  torment  in 
the  world  to  come!" 

"Shoot  down  the  crazy  crone!"  cried  the  Lord 
Digenes.  "Who  need  listen  to  her  raving?  Why  do 
the  dogs  cower  at  the  screaming  of  a  mad  gypsy?" 
But  not  a  man  stirred.  The  guards,  the  officers,  even 
the  general  himself  felt  a  thrill  of  awe,  which  they 
could  neither  explain  nor  suppress. 

139 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Silence  ensued,  till  it  was  broken  by  the  yells  of 
the  maniac,  who  had  now  worked  herself  up  into  a 
delirious  spasm,  which  in  that  age  passed  for  the  in- 
spiration of  one  possessed  by  demons.  Leo  the  dea- 
con and  Theodosius  the  deacon  devoutly  believed  in 
her  diabolic  mission.     Both  solemnly  relate  the  tale. 

Again  she  screamed  aloud:  "Accursed  are  ye,  sons 
of  the  Crucified  Impostor!  Your  bolts  cannot  harm 
me,  the  chosen  paramour  of  Sheitan  himself;  nor  can 
your  lying  priests,  nor  the  wanton,  the  Mother  of  your 
God,  avail  to  save  you.  See  me  stand  bare  and  un- 
protected in  the  sight  of  your  rotten  shafts,  bare  even 
as  when  my  lord  from  hell  visits  me!  you  cannot 
touch  a  hair  of  my  head  nor  the  skin  of  my  body! 
Shame,  death,  torment  is  your  portion  here  and  here- 
after !  Sceph  —  echcimat — ischarop  —  rliasan  —  sermet — 
midene — chaet — iphcsane  /" 

With  these  words,  which  no  man  in  the  Roman  host 
could  comprehend,  but  which  Theodosius  solemnly  re- 
hearses, words  which  sounded  to  them  as  the  knell  of 
their  soul's  damnation,  the  maniac  fell  into  a  series 
of  convulsions;  and  thrice  repeating  her  "Seeph — 
gckeimat"  she  leaped  on  to  the  upper  battlement,  and 
then  tore  off  her  garments,  which  she  flung  down  in 
derision  into  the  blazing  heap  below,  and  there  stood 
shrieking,  in  face  of  the  two  armies,  covered  only  with 
her  long,  black  tresses. 

"Shoot  the  blaspheming  witch!"  cried  a  voice  here 
and  there;  and  many  an  archer  raised  his  bow,  but 
with  the  fear  of  the  powers  of  darkness  in  his  heart, 
drew  back  without  daring  to  take  aim. 

"Secph  —  echeimat!"  was  yelled  out  a  third  time. 
And  at  last  an  archer  (it  is  said  from  the  Mongol 

140 


The   Conquest  of  Crete 

mercenaries,  who  held  Moslem  or  Christian  mysteries 
equally  cheap)  levelled  his  weapon  steadily  at  the  witch 
as  she  stood  with  her  bare  body  lighted  up  by  the 
blazing  pile  below.  The  shaft  pierced  her  breast,  and 
with  a  shriek  that  rang  through  the  Moslem  fortress 
and  the  Christian  camp,  the  hag  fell  headlong  from  the 
tower  into  the  burning  mass  of  the  fallen  turret,  and 
was  there  consumed  to  ashes — almost  before  the  blood 
had  ceased  to  flow  from  the  corpse. 


XI 

The  Storming  of  Chandax 

THE  strange  scene  had  so  deeply  stirred  the  vague 
awe  of  the  Romans,  and  so  fully  engaged  their 
attention,  that  in  the  gloom  which  followed  the  dying 
down  of  the  great  fire  they  suffered  themselves  to  be 
surprised  by  a  sudden  sally  of  the  Saracens.  A  light 
band,  stealing  out  from  a  concealed  postern,  dashed 
upon  the  advanced  works  and  nearly  captured  Niceph- 
orus,  with  his  immediate  staff.  Basil  Digenes,  who 
had  taken  personal  command  of  the  ruined  turret,  was 
actually  surrounded,  and  after  desperate  feats  of  valor 
in  hand-to-hand  combats,  was  struck  down,  wounded, 
and  dragged  back  a  prisoner  into  the  Moslem  fortress. 
There  he  was  thrown  into  a  dungeon  in  the  great  tower 
which  served  as  headquarters  of  one  of  the  chief 
emirs,  to  wait  question  by  the  chief  of  the  staff  him- 
self. He  strove  to  destroy  any  vestige  of  clothing  or 
accoutrement  which  could  betray  his  rank  or  name; 
for  he  well  knew  that  if  the  Moslems  discovered  that 
he  was  the  son  of  the  renegade  emir  of  Edessa,  he 
would  suffer  a  more  horrid  death  than  that  which,  in 
any  case,  was  his  almost  certain  fate.  Through  the 
long  hours  of  darkness  he  lay  on  the  stony  floor,  sore 
and  stiff  with  his  untended  wounds,  and  he  faced  the 

142 


The  Storming  of  Chandax 

worst  with  a  brave  heart,  calling  upon  Mary  in  heaven, 
but  thinking  of  Agatha  on  earth. 

Beneath  the  narrow  grating  of  the  slit  in  the  wall  of 
his  cell  he  could  hear  the  tramp  of  guards  in  the  court- 
yard, and  as  he  had  retained  enough  of  his  father's 
native  speech  to  follow  the  Arab  tongue,  he  listened 
to  rude  jests  about  the  fate  which  awaited  him  when 
questioned  by  the  emir,  and  loud  disputes  as  to 
whether  he  was  an  ordinary  guardsman  of  the  capital 
or  an  officer  of  rank.  "He  is  not  tall  enough  to  be 
one  of  those  accursed  Russ,"  said  one  fellow.  "I  saw 
on  his  side  the  baldric  of  a  spathaire,  as  they  call 
their  emirs,"  said  another.  "I  tell  you,  he  had  a  ruby 
ring,"  cried  a  third,  "but  some  Syrian  thief  had  stolen 
it  before  I  seized  him,"  said  the  last.  "We  shall  know 
all  about  it,  at  any  rate,  when  'Black  Malek'  and  his 
singeing  tools  have  begun  to  loose  his  tongue!"  And 
the  coarse  shout  with  which  this  sally  was  received 
rang  harshly  in  the  young  hero's  ears. 

It  was  still  as  dark  as  pitch  when  a  faint  streak  of 
light  seemed  to  glimmer  around  the  barred  door;  and 
the  keen  ear  of  the  lord  warden  detected  the  slow 
movement  of  the  bolt,  as  if  it  were  being  cautiously 
drawn  back.  Was  he  to  be  assassinated  quietly  in  his 
sleep?  If  so,  well!  Thanks  be  for  this  to  the  Virgin 
Mother  and  the  saints!  He  closed  his  eyes  and  feigned 
to  sleep,  with  a  muttered  prayer  to  be  received  in 
mercy  by  Christ  in  heaven.  Presently  he  was  aware 
of  two  figures  stealthily  approaching  him.  "He  sleeps 
soundly,"  said  a  voice,  in  whispers.  "Allah  be 
praised!"  whispered  another  voice,  which  sounded  to 
the  listener  strangely  like  that  of  a  woman.  "Lift  up 
the  lantern,  nurse;  the  wound  I  saw  on  him  was  a  deep 

143 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

gash  in  the  left  shoulder,  made  by  a  blow  which  had 
shorn  away  his  vest."  By  the  light  of  a  borne  lantern 
the  prisoner  could  dimly  perceive  standing  over  him 
the  figure  of  a  black  Nubian  woman,  who  had  sponge, 
bandages,  and  liniment  with  her,  and  was  stooping 
down  to  dress  the  wound.  Digenes  forced  himself  to 
lie  still  and  feign  deep  sleep  in  order  to  hear  more  of 
this  unexpected  visit. 

"Ah!  Is  the  young  Nazarene  dead?"  came  with  a 
sigh  from  the  other  woman,  who  had  stood  behind 
the  door  but  now  came  forward  sufficiently  to  let  the 
prisoner  perceive  a  young  and  beautiful  girl,  in  the 
most  elegant  dress  of  a  Saracen  lady  of  high  rank. 
"Is  he  dead,  nurse?"  she  sighed  again.  "Not  dead, 
no,  nor  like  to  die,  my  sweet  mistress,  not  until  his 
Excellency,  your  father,  gives  the  word,  as  I  suppose 
he  will  at  daybreak." 

"Tend  him  now,  at  least,"  said  the  lady.  And  the 
Nubian,  with  her  strong  arms  and  practised  skill, 
bathed,  soothed,  and  bandaged  the  wound,  while  the 
patient  still  maintained  his  semblance  of  slumber, 
eager  as  he  was  to  understand  what  miracle  could  have 
won  for  him,  as  it  seemed,  the  protection  of  the  emir's 
daughter,  who  was  evidently  now  stooping  to  look  at 
his  face  in  the  dim  half-light. 

"What  is  it  can  lead  you,  my  darling  lady,  to  bring 
help  to  this  cruel  giaour,  who  is  fighting  against  God 
and  His  Prophet — one,  too,  whom  your  own  father 
will  assuredly  put  to  a  just  death  when  he  has  wrtmg 
from  him  all  that  he  knows  about  the  unbelieving 
host?" 

"Hush,  nurse,  do  what  I  tell  you.  I  saw  our  men 
last  night  as  they  brought  in  this  prisoner  from  the 

144 


The  Storming  of  Chandax 

fight.  Behind  our  lattice  I  could  see  his  look,  and  was 
struck  with  amazement  at  what  I  saw.  He  is  the 
very  image  of  my  own  beloved  brother,  Hassan,  who 
was  taken  prisoner  in  the  great  battle  round  Tarsus 
and  died  in  the  castle  of  the  Armenian  chief  who  had 
captured  him.  But  his  last  days  were  made  peaceful 
by  the  care  of  the  noble  lord,  who  had  blood  relation- 
ship with  our  family.  I  have  longed  to  do  as  much 
for  some  captive  giaour  —  and  here  is  one  whom  I 
can  save." 

"Oh,  my  dearest  foster-child,  this  is  a  strange  de- 
lusion," said  the  slave-woman. 

"I  tell  you,  nurse,  he  is  the  image  of  my  dear  dead 
brother.  It  is  marvellous,  it  is  incredible,  it  is  some 
special  will  of  God.  This  young  Christian  officer — I 
am  sure  he  is  an  officer  of  high  rank  —  has  the  same 
dark  eyes,  the  delicate  features,  the  olive  tint,  the 
raven  hair  of  my  lost  brother.  I  tell  you,  nurse,  as  I 
saw  him  dragged  bleeding  and  haggard  beneath  my 
lattice,  I  thought  I  was  looking  on  my  brother  just 
before  he  breathed  his  last  in  the  house  of  a  kind 
Christian  chief.  It  is  not  true,  nurse,  that  they  are 
all  wicked  and  savage.  There  are  Christian  heroes  as 
there  are  Moslem  heroes,  and  I  am  fain  to  think  this 
noble  youth  is  one  of  them  himself.  In  any  case,  he 
shall  not  die  if  I  can  save  him  for  my  brother's  sake!" 

"Thanks,  gracious  lady,  for  that  word.  We  are  not 
all  savage,  as  your  brother  found  us,  and  as  your 
heart  tells  you,"  murmured  the  Akritas,  in  the  sweet- 
est intonation  which  he  could  give  to  such  Arabic 
speech  as  he  still  retained. 

The  maiden  started  up  and  rushed  towards  the  door 
in  her  amazement  and  confusion,  when  she  heard  such 

J45 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

words  in  -her  own  tongue  from  one  whom  but  a  moment 
before  she  believed  to  be  in  his  last  sleep.  "Nay,  fly- 
not,  gentle  maiden,  fear  nothing;  I  am  your  help- 
less and  grateful  prisoner,  but  I,  too,  have  known  how 
to  soothe  the  dying  hours  of  an  enemy  —  a  gallant 
Saracen;  and  from  my  own  father  I  have  the  blood 
and  the  speech  of  an  emir  as  my  inheritance  —  ay, 
and,  I  trust,  something  still  of  the  honor  of  that  noble 
chief  in  my  soul.  Fear  me  not,  lady,  help  me  to  die  in 
peace,  even  as,  in  my  father's  castle,  I  eased  the  dying 
hours  of  the  young  Hassan,  the  son  of  my  own  father's 
sister." 

"What  is  this?  Speak!  who  are  you,  then,  if  no 
giaour,  and  how  come  you  to  be  in  arms  against  our 
people  and  our  faith?" 

"Lady,  the  Hassan,  whose  eyes  I  closed,  and  whom 
I  buried  with  the  honors  due  to  a  gallant  chief,  was 
my  own  kinsman  in  blood,  for  I  am  the  only  child  of 
the  emir  of  Edessa,  Mousour,  who  forsook  Islam  when 
he  wedded  the  daughter  of  Prince  Dukas." 

"What!"  cried  the  girl,  quite  beside  herself  with 
wonder  and  excitement,  "you  are  then  cousin-ger- 
main  to  my  own  loved  brother!  You  are  the  lord 
who  protected  him!  This,  then,  is  how  it  came  to 
pass  that  when  I  saw  you  I  thought  that  my  brother 
himself  had  returned  to  earth  and  was  before  me. 
Praise  be  to  Allah,  for  in  spite  of  your  faith  and  mine 
we  are  of  one  blood,  and  your  father  and  my  mother 
were  brother  and  sister  of  one  house;  and  Allah  in  his 
mercy  has  brought  us  at  last  together,  so  that  blood 
of  yours  shall  not  lie  at  our  door  after  all,  if  the  word 
of  Fatima  can  suffice  to  prevent  this  crime!" 

Crimson  with  blushes  and  panting  with  excitement 
146 


The  Storming  of  Chandax 

as  the  terrible  nature  of  her  promise  struck  her  mind, 
the  Saracen  maiden  fell  on  her  knees  before  the  pris- 
oner, and,  taking  his  right  hand  in  hers,  she  raised  it 
solemnly  to  her  lips,  as  she  uttered  to  her  God  a  silent 
vow.  Then  she  gave  the  hand  she  still  held  a  gentle 
but  meaning  pressure,  and  rose  up  in  haste. 

"Come,  nurse,  haste!  bring  these  things  away. 
There  is  much  to  be  done.  Everything  has  to  be  ar- 
ranged within  an  hour.  Prisoner,  who  stood  friend  to 
Hassan  in  prison,  remember  that  Hassan's  sister  will 
be  friend  to  you,  or  will  die  in  the  attempt!" 

The  fair  Fatima  in  fact  persuaded  her  father  that, 
her  Nubian  nurse  having  been  summoned  to  save  the 
prisoner's  life  that  he  might  be  questioned,  it  had  been 
ascertained  that  he  had  Saracen  blood  in  his  veins, 
but  had  been  brought  up  from  youth  among  the 
giaours.  If  he  were  carefully  nursed  back  to  life  and 
his  wounds  dressed  he  might  be  led  to  return  to  the  faith 
of  his  Moslem  ancestors,  and  would  then  prove  of  great 
service  to  the  defence  by  what  he  could  reveal.  The 
emir,  absorbed  in  the  cares  of  his  desperate  situation, 
and  having  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  had  in  his 
power  a  prisoner  of  importance,  consented  to  the  man 
remaining  in  his  dungeon,  under  guard,  and  permitted 
the  Nubian  nurse  to  visit  him  and  care  for  his  life,  if 
she  had  any  means  of  so  doing. 

When  it  was  supposed  that  the  prisoner  was  suffi- 
ciently restored  to  bear  examination,  he  was  carried, 
chained  to  two  stout  guards,  into  the  audience- 
chamber  of  the  emir-in-chief,  Abd-el-Aziz,  whom  the 
Byzantine  historians  call  the  kouropas  —  a  curious 
corruption  of  curopalatas,  which  itself  is  a  corruption 
of    curator   palatii,    or   lord    high    chamberlain.     The 

147 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

kouropas  was  seated  on  a  curiously  carved  throne,  in 
a  hall  hung  with  arms,  Persian  carpets,  and  embroidery, 
and  was  surrounded  by  a  fierce  band  of  officers  and 
orderlies.  He  had  already  ordered  the  execution  of 
some  prisoners  taken  in  the  late  sortie,  and  Digenes 
was  about  to  be  dragged  into  his  presence,  when  an 
officer  rushed  forward  to  announce  that  the  envoys 
he  had  despatched  at  the  beginning  of  the  siege  to  the 
Caliph  Abd-er-Rahman  in  Cordova  were  just  returning 
with  ambassadors  from  the  great  Ommeyad,  the  power- 
ful sovereign  of  the  West.  As  the  city  of  Chandax 
was  so  closely  invested,  the  Spanish  Moors  had  only 
with  great  difficulty  and  hair-breadth  escapes  found 
their  way  to  the  walls;  and  at  last  they  had  been  drawn 
up  to  the  ramparts  in  baskets  hung  out  over  the  fosse 
by  a  crane.  The  kouropas  ordered  them  at  once  to 
be  admitted  with  all  possible  ceremony,  and  rose  to 
do  honor  to  the  representatives  of  his  powerful  fellow- 
believer,  and,  as  he  hoped,  his  ally. 

After  the  customary  salaams  and  exchange  of  compli- 
ments, the  ambassadors  were  seated  and  opened  their 
business,  to  which  Digenes  listened,  as  he  was  thrust 
aside  behind  a  throng  of  guards  and  officials.  The 
two  envoys  of  Abd-er-Rahman  reported  that  their  lord 
and  master  had  despatched  them  from  Andalusia  in 
two  of  his  swiftest  cruisers  to  ascertain  the  condition 
of  their  brethren  in  Crete.  They  had  been  shocked 
to  find  to  how  terrible  a  strait  they  were  reduced. 
The  giaour  was  master  of  the  whole  island.  Far  and 
wide  the  Saracen  cities  had  been  sacked  and  occupied. 
The  land  had  been  ravaged,  and  the  bones  and  goods 
of  the  true  believers  lay  scattered  over  the  fields. 
Chandax  itself  was  closely  invested,  and  was  on  every 

148 


The  Storming  of  Chandax 

side  being  bombarded  with  powerful  engines.  They 
saw  with  horror  and  pity  as  they  passed  through  the 
streets  crowds  of  country  people  who  had  taken  refuge 
within  its  walls,  old  men,  women,  and  children,  in  sore 
destitution,  pinched  with  cold  and  hunger  and  cum- 
bering the  market-place  with  dead  and  dying.  And, 
even  while  they  were  trying  to  force  their  way  through 
the  giaour  lines  outside,  they  had  witnessed  a  ghastly 
scene.  A  helpless  crowd  of  infirm  men,  children  re- 
duced to  the  state  of  skeletons,  and  women  dragging 
moaning  infants  beside  them,  were  forced  out  of  the 
city  as  "useless  mouths,"  driven,  as  sheep  are  hunted 
by  wolves,  to  the  enemies'  lines,  from  which  again 
they  were  forced  back  by  the  bloody  Nazarenes  with 
curses,  blows,  and  weapons,  so  that  they  lay  down, 
gasping,  in  the  trenches  now  reeking  with  rottin'g 
bodies  of  men  and  beasts.  It  was  a  hideous  sight. 
And  however  anxious  was  the  caliph  of  the  West  to 
succor  his  kinsmen  and  fellow-believers  in  the  Prophet, 
it  seemed  hopeless  to  enter  on  so  desperate  an  enter- 
prise in  a  crisis  so  appalling. 

"Noble  envoys  of  the  great  caliph  in  Andalusia," 
said  Abd-el-Aziz,  "we  are  indeed  sore  bested,  but  our 
case  is  not  yet  hopeless.  We  are  reduced  to  a  rem- 
nant of  fighting  men,  but  we  are  sworn  to  defend  this 
city  or  die;  and  to  keep  a  remnant  alive  and  fit  for 
arms,  we  have  to  sacrifice  those  who  cannot  fight. 
They,  too,  are  martyrs  to  our  faith,  and  God  in  His 
mercy  will  not  suffer  them  to  perish  forever.  There  is 
still  hope  left ;  for  we  learned  but  a  few  days  ago  that  the 
imaum  of  west  Africa  has  succeeded  in  landing  a  large 
force  of  gallant  Moors,  who  even  now  are  advancing 
with  haste  and  will  attack  the  unbelievers  in  the  rear." 

149 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"If  ye  can  maintain  your  defence  yet  two  months 
longer,"  said  the  Spanish  envoys,  "our  master  will 
endeavor  to  give  you  succor  or  offer  you  a  refuge.  His 
fleets  scour  the  western  sea  from  the  island  of  Sicily, 
but  he  is  not  yet  prepared  to  make  war  on  the  sover- 
eign of  Roum." 

But  at  this  moment  a  fresh  despatch  reached  the 
kouropas,  to  the  effect  that  by  a  sudden  night  march 
Nicephorus  had  fallen  unawares  on  the  African  army 
of  relief,  had  surprised  them  in  their  tents  and  bivouac, 
and  had  annihilated  the  entire  command  and  taken  all 
their  stores,  arms,  and  munitions  of  war. 

A  spasm  of  rage,  grief,  and  disappointment  ran 
through  the  council  when  this  news  was  made  known ; 
and  the  hall  was  a  scene  of  frenzied  excitement  and 
almost  of  panic  as  they  saw  how  the  wisdom  of  the 
politic  Abd-er-Rahman  was  justified,  how  little  could 
be  hoped  from  the  side  of  the  Spanish  caliphate. 

The  kouropas  rose  with  an  air  of  heroic  resolution 
and  calmed  the  storm.  "Illustrious  envoys  of  the 
mighty  caliph  of  the  West,  emirs,  officers,  and  sol- 
diers of  the  Prophet — we  have  sworn  to  defend  this 
city  of  the  true  believers  to  the  last  drop  of  our 
blood.  If  the  great  ones  of  our  faith  in  Spain,  in 
Asia,  or  in  Africa  come  not  to  our  help,  we  Moslems 
of  Crete  will  fight  the  Nazarene  while  we  can  hold  our 
swords.  We  will  never  be  slaves  to  the  foul  brood 
that  eats  swine,  that  worships  stones  and  painted 
boards,  that  prostrates  itself  to  a  wanton.  Sons  of 
Islam,  if  we  are  to  die,  let  us  prepare  for  the  Galilean 
a  bloody  victory!" 

In  the  mean  time  the  Roman  commander-in-chief, 
sore  grieved  at  the  loss  of  his  young  lieutenant-gen- 

15° 


The  Storming  of  Chandax 

eral,  the  akritas,  and  made  anxious  by  the  determined 
energy  of  the  enemy  and  his  own  daily  losses,  was  in- 
defatigable in  his  efforts  to  force  the  siege  to  a  trium- 
phant end.  He  was  now  pressing  on  the  device  of  a 
mine,  since  he  found  that  his  movable  turrets  could 
not  overtop  the  wall,  nor  his  rams  or  his  bores  suf- 
fice to  shake  it.  For  a  month  his  engineers  had  been 
at  work  on  a  deep  mine  beneath  the  curtain  that  lay 
between  two  principal  towers,  where  at  last  he  had 
detected  a  soil  soft  enough  to  be  pierced  by  mining. 
The  main  circuit  of  the  wall  rested  on  impenetrable 
rock;  but  now  he  had  found  a  bit  which,  with  inces- 
sant labor,  it  was  possible  to  traverse.  A  vast,  subter- 
ranean chamber  was  now  prepared,  supported  only 
on  beams,  which,  on  the  appointed  day,  could  be  de- 
stroyed by  fire. 

It  was  now  ready  for  the  great  assault;  and  during 
the  night  the  whole  Roman  forces  had  been  marshalled 
in  their  respective  posts.  The  catapults  and  balistae 
were  plied  with  new  vehemence.  The  air  rang  with 
missiles  of  every  kind — rocks,  bolts,  darts,  and  bombs 
of  Greek  fire.  Nicephorus  traversed  the  ranks,  call- 
ing on  his  men  to  smite  these  blaspheming  sons  of 
the  concubine  —  these  Ishmaelites,  who  eat  unclean 
camel's  flesh  and  pollute  themselves  with  a  multitude 
of  women,  who  revile  Christ  and  His  Mother,  who 
murder  the  innocent,  and  practise  all  the  abominations 
of  the  great  Impostor.  Christ  and  His  Holy  Mother 
would  welcome  in  Heaven  all  who  fell  in  this  sacred 
war  against  the  infidel,  and  their  king  in  Rome  would 
honor  and  reward  them  on  earth. 

His  engineers  now  reported  to  the  general  that  the 
great  mine  was  quite  ready  to  be  fired  when  the  order 

11  151 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

should  be  given.  Thereupon  Nicephorus  ordered  a 
solemn  service  to  be  performed.  He  had  caused  an 
army  of  artificers  to  be  sent  from  Constantinople,  who 
had  raised  a  church  in  an  incredibly  short  time  (Michael 
of  Attala,  the  historian,  solemnly  tells  us  that  it  was 
miraculously  built  in  three  days).  It  was  placed  in 
the  rear  of  the  camp,  behind  an  eminence  which  con- 
cealed it  from  the  city.  It  was  a  miniature  Santa 
Sophia,  with  a  spherical  dome,  marble  columns,  bronze 
doors,  and  mosaic  pictures  similar  to  the  old  Byzan- 
tine churches  still  standing  in  Greece.  It  was,  of 
course,  dedicated  to  the  Immaculate  Virgin,  and  it 
was  filled  with  emblems  and  figures  of  the  warrior 
saints,  but  it  long  bore  the  popular  name  given  to  it 
by  the  soldiers — the  "Church  of  the  Lord  General." 
There  Nicephorus  was  wont  to  worship  daily,  but 
on  this  eventful  day  he  chose  to  attend  the  service 
with  more  than  ordinary  state.  In  his  most  resplen- 
dent uniform,  with  his  gilt  corselet,  his  plumed  helmet, 
and  burnished  greaves,  he  called  round  him  his  princi- 
pal officers  and  the  entire  body  of  the  priests  and  chap- 
lains of  the  army.  From  the  church  he  issued  forth 
in  a  brilliant  procession,  both  military  and  sacerdotal. 
On  his  white  charger  he  rode  forth,  followed  by  his 
staff,  and  surrounded  by  priests,  choristers,  and 
acolytes,  bearing  the  golden  crucifixes,  incense,  mirac- 
ulous ikons,  and  the  host  in  chased  ciboria  of  gold  and 
jewels.  General  and  priests  visited  each  post  and  de- 
tachment in  turn.  The  priests  pronounced  absolution 
and  gave  the  holy  wafer,  and  offered  to  the  fervid 
kisses  of  the  soldiers  on  their  knees  the  relics  of  mar- 
tyrs in  their  encolpia.the  jewelled  lockets  they  carried 
hung  by  chains  round  their  necks. 

152 


The  Storming  of  Chandax 

Nicephorus  again  harangued  them,  galloping  from 
post  to  post.  "Their  royal  master,  Romanus,  had 
offered  rewards  of  valor  to  all  who  should  distinguish 
themselves.  These  holy  servants  of  Christ  here,  with 
the  bones  of  martyrs  and  the  body  and  blood  of  their 
Saviour  in  their  hands,  promised  the  palm  of  martyrs 
and  the  glory  of  heaven  to  all  who  should  fall  in  the 
fight.  Smite  these  black  sons  of  the  False  Prophet, 
these  revilers  of  God's  name,  these  miscreants  who 
commit  their  abominations  to-day  in  the  holy  spot 
where  Mary  our  mother  first  laid  on  earth  the  Divine 
Child,  begotten  of  the  Father;  nay,  they  polluted  the 
hallowed  sepulchre  wherein  the  apostles  laid  their 
crucified  Lord  and  Master.  Smite  and  spare  them 
not,  sons  of  Rome  and  followers  of  Christ,  even  as  the 
children  of  Israel  smote  the  sons  of  Amalek  and  the 
brood  of  Goliath!  Smite  —  for  God  in  heaven  with 
His  holy  ones  this  very  hour  is  looking  down  on  each 
of  you  from  heaven  above!" 

And  then  Nicephorus,  carried  beyond  himself  into 
something  like  religious  illusion,  broke  into  a  rhapsody 
which  raised  the  enthusiasm  of  his  men  to  white  heat : 
"I  see,"  he  cried,  "the  heaven  opening  before  my 
eyes.  There  sits  in  glory  the  Immaculate  Mother  of 
God:  I  see  her  smile  on  you  the  assurance  of  her 
divine  protection!"  The  chief  dismounted,  and  tak- 
ing off  his  helmet,  he  prostrated  himself  thrice  on  the 
bare  rock,  as  if  he  stood  before  the  altar  of  God. 
Then  rising,  and  raising  his  hands  in  an  attitude  of 
adoration,  he  cried:  "See  the  Blessed  Mary  of  Victory 
as  she  beckons  us  to  march  against  the  infidel!  See 
Christ,  the  Son,  the  Creator  of  heaven  and  earth, 
raising  His  holy  hands  to  bless  you,  and  to  promise 

153 


Theophano  :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

you  His  help.  See!  around  the  Saviour  stand  there 
St.  Demetrius  and  St.  George,  both  in  golden  cuirass, 
St.  Theodore,  and  the  archangel  Michael  with  his  flam- 
ing sword.  Soldiers!  Romans!  Christians!  can  ye  not 
see  the  white  wings  of  the  mighty  archangel  beating 
the  air  as  he  sweeps  on  in  front  of  your  lines?  Can 
ye  not  see  the  flaming  sword  that  led  the  angels  on  to 
victory  against  the  rebel  crew  of  Satan,  as  it  points 
to  you  the  path  to  victory  and  to  glory?" 

A  deep  and  muffled  roar  ran  along  the  Roman  lines 
as  the  general  resumed  his  helmet  and  his  charger; 
for  in  that  age  of  imaginative  excitement  and  religious 
passion  the  troops  were  as  easily  brought  to  believe 
they  saw  in  the  white  clouds,  tinted  with  the  morning 
sun,  the  figures  of  the  celestial  host,  as  truly  as  their 
commander  in  his  zealous  trance  had  believed  himself 
to  have  seen  them.  The  strain  on  the  mind  of  Ni- 
cephorus,  who  alone  knew  the  intense  crisis  of  that 
moment,  was  almost  unbearable.  He  had  just  sent 
the  order  to  spring  the  mine  by  firing  the  props  of 
timber.  As  he  rode  forward  to  watch  the  issue  an 
appalling  crash  rent  the  sky.  The  two  main  towers 
heaved,  toppled,  and  fell  in  masses  into  the  fosse  below, 
dragging  with  them  nearly  the  whole  of  the  curtain 
of  wall  between  them,  with  battlements,  engines,  and 
defenders  in  one  ghastly  heap,  and  from  the  fragments 
clouds  of  dust  rose  up,  which  covered  both  the  city 
within  and  the  attacking  forces  without. 

And  now,  before  they  could  see  each  other,  swarms 
of  wild  Saracens  rushed  forth  over  the  debris  and  from 
the  gates  of  the  city,  suddenly  thrown  wide  open. 
Haggard  dervishes  in  white  vests  flung  themselves 
madly   on   the    Roman    spears.     Arab   horsemen,    on 

154 


The  Storming  of  Chandax 

foaming  chargers,  dashed  into  the  advancing  columns; 
turbaned  emirs  in  gleaming  coats  of  mail  frantically- 
cheered  on  their  men  to  slay  the  dogs  who  ate  swine's 
flesh  and  reviled  the  Prophet,  promising  the  gold  of 
the  infidel  camp  to  those  who  survived  and  the  houris 
of  paradise  to  those  who  fell.  Abd-el-Aziz,  the  com- 
mander-in-chief, passed  from  one  corner  of  the  field 
to  the  other,  while  the  gigantic  Emir  Ben-Senoussi,  the 
captor  of  Digenes  and  the  father  of  Fatima,  charged 
full  at  Nicephorus  himself.  The  tremendous  duel  for 
an  instant  arrested  the  attention  of  both  sides.  Spur- 
ring his  powerful  charger  to  his  utmost  speed,  and 
couching  his  lance,  Ben-Senoussi  rode  at  the  general, 
who  was  now  equipped  in  his  full  panoply.  As  the 
Bedouin  bore  down  on  him,  Nicephorus  caught  the 
lance  dexterously  on  his  shield,  and  caused  it  to  swerve 
aside  without  piercing  the  weapon.  Then,  as  the 
huge  Saracen  came  abreast  of  him,  the  general  swung 
his  mighty  falchion  straight  on  to  the  turban  of  his 
adversary,  and  clove  him  in  twain  down  to  the  chine. 

With  a  roar  of  joy,  and  triumphant  shouts  of 
"Rome!"  "Mother  of  God!"  "St.  George!"  "St.  Theo- 
dore!" the  Roman  army  dashed  on,  slaying  the  der- 
vishes in  heaps,  and  pouring  over  the  fallen  wall  and 
through  the  breach  and  the  still  open  gates.  The  kou- 
ropas  had  been  swept  back  by  the  tide  of  victors  and 
defeated  in  the  melee,  and  still  with  heroic  determina- 
tion he  directed  the  combat  within  the  walls.  It  had 
now  become  a  pitiless  struggle  from  house  to  house, 
from  one  winding  alley  to  another.  All  day  long  the 
bloody  work  raged  on.  As  each  house  was  stormed 
all  within  it  were  massacred,  and  it  was  then  burned 
or  destroyed.     Neither  age  nor  sex  was  spared.    Port- 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

able  valuables  were  seized;  that  which  could  not  be 
carried  was  destroyed.  Lust,  rapine,  slaughter  ruled 
unbridled.  Violation  did  not  save  the  women  who 
were  victims  of  the  license,  nor  did  innocence  and 
helplessness  avail  to  save  the  children  of  the  accursed 
race.  Hell  was  enacted  in  all  its  atrocities  in  the  name 
of  Christ  and  for  the  honor  of  the  Immaculate  Mother 
of  God.  Here  and  there  was  heard  the  voice  of  a 
priest  chanting  a  hymn  from  the  psalm  of  David: 
"Thou  shalt  break  them  with  a  rod  of  iron;  thou  shalt 
dash  them  in  pieces  like  a  potter's  vessel."  "The 
Lord  shall  swallow  them  up  in  His  wrath,  and  the  fire 
shall  devour  them."  "O  daughter  of  Babylon,  who 
art  to  be  destroyed!"  "Happy  shall  he  be  that  tak- 
eth  and  dasheth  Thy  little  ones  against  the  stones." 

Long  did  the  infernal  orgy  of  destruction,  rape, 
torture,  and  murder  run  riot  through  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  doomed  city  of  the  Saracens.  But  in 
the  afternoon,  as  the  sun  was  setting,  the  generalis- 
simo of  the  Romans  succeeded  in  quelling  the  out- 
break. He  had  been  detained  on  the  field  in  order 
to  protect  his  own  rear,  which  was  threatened  by  some 
roving  bands  which  had  made  a  circuitous  advance  on 
to  his  camp.  Now  he  rode  into  the  thick  of  the  street 
fight,  ordering  the  promiscuous  slaughter  and  de- 
struction to  cease.  He  directed  tried  officers  of  his 
own  to  collect  and  protect  the  booty  seized,  with  orders 
to  execute  all  soldiers  taken  in  the  act  of  rape,  plunder, 
or  massacre.  Coming  suddenly  on  a  soldier  in  the  very 
act  of  mutilating  a  girl  whom  he  had  already  raped, 
the  general  ordered  a  sergeant  to  arrest  him,  have 
him  flogged,  and  his  nose  cut  off.  As  he  passed  on,  his 
officers  reported  that  the  soldier,  with  a  bag  of  gold 

156 


The   Storming  of  Chandax 

that  he  had'  just  plundered,  had  bribed  the  sergeant 
to  remit  the  punishment  and  let  him  escape  free. 
Flagrant  insubordination  such  as  this  always  roused 
the  passion  of  Nicephorus.  He  instantly  ordered  the 
same  punishment  to  be  inflicted  on  the  sergeant  which 
that  officer  had  failed  to  execute  on  the  original  of- 
fender. 

As  he  rode  up  to  the  gateway  of  one  of  the  central 
habitations,  the  general  found  a  group  of  fierce  ir- 
regulars from  the  Euxine  steppes  attacking  a  man  who 
was  defending  himself  with  nothing  but  a  light  buckler 
and  a  Saracen  scimitar.  He  stood  at  bay,  with  his 
back  to  the  wall  in  a  corner  of  the  court-yard,  appar- 
ently protecting  a  girl  in  Moorish  dress,  who  lay  faint- 
ing on  the  ground  at  his  feet.  The  gallant  swordsman, 
who  looked  more  like  an  Arab  than  a  Roman,  was  now 
bleeding  from  three  wounds,  and  was  nearly  over- 
powered by  the  wild  fellows  who  had  surrounded  them. 
"Back,  you  ruffians!"  he  shouted  in  Greek:  "I  tell  you 
I  am  a  Roman,  and  an  officer  on  the  staff  of  your 
commander,  and  have  been  a  prisoner  here  in  the 
enemies'  dungeon!"  But  the  Tartars,  who  knew  no 
Greek  and  judged  him  by  his  look  and  dress  to  be  a 
Saracen,  redoubled  their  strokes,  and  were  on  the 
point  of  completing  their  work  by  slaughtering  him 
and  ravishing  the  girl. 

What  was  the  amazement  of  Nicephorus  when,  in 
spite  of  the  blood  on  the  swordsman's  face  and  his 
Saracen  costume,  he  recognized  his  beloved  Digenes 
Akritas,  whom  he  saved  in  the  last  moment,  driving 
back  the  Tartars  with  curses  and  threats. 

"Arrest  these  miscreants!"  he  shouted  to  the  pro- 
vost-marshal, "who  dishonor  the  victory  of  Our  Lord 

157 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  King,  and  shame  the  favor  of  Our  Virgin  Mistress  in 
heaven.  Take  this  girl,  be  she  Moslem  or  Christian, 
and  treat  her  in  all  honor.  My  beloved  brother-in- 
arms, who  art  risen  from  the  grave,  they  shall  take 
you  to  my  tent  and  attend  to  your  wounds.  I  must 
hasten  forward  to  hold  these  demons  in  hand.  Carry 
my  orders  to  my  captains  as  peremptory  on  pain  of 
death  to  stay  this  massacre  and  prevent  further 
plunder  and  riot,  or  Christ  above  and  His  Immaculate 
Mother  will  visit  us  sorely,  in  that  we  have  turned  the 
victory  they  have  given  us  into  abominations  that  the 
infidels  themselves  could  not  surpass  in  sin." 


XII 
Digenes  and  Fatima:    Roman  or  Saracen 

THE  energy  and  stern  determination  of  the  lord 
general,  whose  iron  discipline  was  feared  by  the 
wildest  Mongol  horsemen  in  his  motley  host,  gradually 
restored  order  and  regular  government  through  the 
vast  encampment  of  the  victorious  Romans.  The  im- 
mense treasures  which  Chandax  contained,  the  plunder 
of  a  century  and  a  half  of  rich  and  beautiful  cities  on 
the  JEgean  coast  and  its  islands,  were  placed  under 
adequate  guards,  and  were  carefully  distributed  into 
proper  departments  for  sale,  reward,  or  display.  A 
portion  was  reserved  to  adorn  the  triumph  of  the 
general  on  his  return  to  Constantinople.  Other  por- 
tions were  set  apart  for  the  prize  of  the  various  com- 
manders, squadrons,  and  soldiers  who  had  actually 
taken  part  in  the  late  battles;  but  far  the  largest 
portion  was  sold  by  auction  at  authorized  marts  for 
the  benefit  of  the  state,  the  officers,  and  the  forces 
engaged. 

The  general  himself  from  time  to  time  would  ride 
round  the  lines  of  cantonment  to  inspect  the  conduct 
of  his  officials  and  the  behavior  of  his  men,  and  to 
satisfy  himself  that  his  orders  were  fulfilled  to  the 
letter.  His  staff  and  orderlies  followed  him  in  a  brill- 
iant cavalcade;  and  by  his  side  was  usually  to  be  seen 

i59 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

his  beloved  Digenes,  the  warden  of  the  marches,  now 
almost  restored  from  the  many  wounds  he  had  received 
from  Saracen  and  from  Roman,  but  still  bearing  a  scar 
across  his  chiselled  cheek,  and  with  his  left  arm  sus- 
pended in  a  silken  scarf.  Nicephorus  glowed  with 
pride  as  he  passed  from  one  orderly  camp  to  another, 
and  noticed  how  completely  the  rage  of  battle  and  the 
hurricane  of  license  had  given  way  to  a  scene  of  peace- 
ful business  as  regular  as  could  be  seen  in  the  bazaars 
of  the  capital  itself.  The  military  police  patrolled 
every  corner  of  the  encampment,  and  strong  bodies  of 
civilian  merchants,  salesmen,  experts,  and  traders,  such 
as  usually  followed  a  great  Roman  army,  were  busy 
appraising  the  booty,  or  putting  it  up  for  sale  and  ex- 
change. The  immense  stores  of  coin,  nearly  all  of 
them  golden  bezants  from  the  Roman  mints,  which 
had  been  discovered  in  the  vaults  of  the  Arab  govern- 
ment, were  now  being  registered  and  placed  in  safe 
keeping  for  the  use  of  the  royal  exchequer  by  skilled 
fiscal  officers  of  state.  The  gold  and  silver  plate,  the 
jewelled  ornaments,  and  many  of  the  rarest  embroi- 
deries, carpets,  and  tapestries  —  for  the  most  part 
plundered  in  piratical  descents  on  seaboard  cities  of 
the  empire  —  these  were  reserved  to  be  borne  in  pro- 
cession when  the  triumph  in  the  Hippodrome  was  to 
be  celebrated.  And  with  these  were  set  apart  for  the 
same  show  specimens  of  arms  and  armor,  jewelled 
turbans  with  aigrettes  and  plumes  set  on  steel  hel- 
mets, chain  coats-of-mail,  fringed  pennons,  kettle-drums 
and  brass  trumpets,  Bedouin  chargers  of  rare  beauty, 
snowy-white,  with  sweeping  tails  and  heads  as  delicate 
as  those  of  a  gazelle.  Camels,  and  white  asses  of 
rare  Arabian  breed,  and   Nubian  slaves,  gigantic  in 

160 


Digenes  and   Fatima:    Roman  or  Saracen 

body  and  grotesque  in  countenance,  their  ebon  limbs 
circled  with  massive  rings  and  loosely  clad  in  white 
tunics,  formed  many  a  fantastic  and  motley  group. 

Abd-el-Aziz,  the  aged  commander,  or  kouropas,  as 
the  Romans  called  him,  along  with  his  son,  the  gallant 
Anemas,  were  set  apart  and  placed  in  tents  beside 
headquarters,  under  the  immediate  supervision  of  Ni- 
cephorus.  They,  too,  were  to  be  borne  in  the  triumphal 
procession  and  offered  to  the  autocrat  to  await  his 
good  pleasure.  And  with  the  venerable  chief  and  his 
son  were  reserved  for  the  same  occasion  the  most  dis- 
tinguished men  and  most  beautiful  youths  and  maid- 
ens of  his  family  and  household,  all  of  whom  the 
general  had  strictly  ordered  were  to  be  treated  with 
the  utmost  respect  and  generosity,  and  provided  with 
everything  proper  to  their  rank. 

The  ordinary  survivors  of  the  Saracen  city,  and  the 
immense  booty  of  all  kinds,  which,  in  spite  of  the  de- 
struction, the  fires,  and  ruin  of  the  three  days  of  storm, 
had  been  collected  by  the  officers  charged  with  the 
duty,  were  now  being  sold  by  auction.  Garments, 
ornaments,  utensils,  fabrics  of  every  kind  and  of  every 
factory,  both  of  the  East  and  the  West,  were  strewn 
about  and  held  up  for  inspection  in  picturesque  con- 
fusion. A  few  of  the  wealthier  officers  gathered  round 
the  platforms  of  the  auctioneers  to  pick  up  any  article 
which  took  their  fancy;  some  of  the  soldiers  here  and 
there  thought  they  could  recognize  an  ornament  plun- 
dered from  a  home  they  had  once  known ;  but  for  the 
most  part  the  buyers  were  professional  traders  who, 
like  vultures  after  a  bloody  field,  had  swooped  down 
on  the  spot  from  far  and  near:  Jews  from  Syria  and 
Egypt,  Armenian  brokers  from  the  Golden  Horn,  rene- 

161 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

gade  Moslems  from  Damascus  and  Acre,  exiled  Latins 
from  Amalphi  and  Palermo,  Hellenes  from  Corinth, 
Italians  from  Venice  and  Bari,  and  Slavs  from 
Adrianople  and  Dyrrachium. 

It  was  not  at  all  a  mere  auction  of  stuff,  orna- 
ments, and  household  goods.  The  really  useful  beasts, 
whether  camels,  horses,  or  asses,  had  been  already 
requisitioned  for  the  army  by  the  imperial  officials. 
The  refuse  of  the  cattle,  which  was  not  worth  the  trans- 
port, was  offered  to  the  highest  bidder,  and  now  could 
command  but  trifling  prices.  But  the  bulk  of  the 
ordinary  sales  were  those  of  living  prisoners  of  war. 
By  the  laws  of  war,  as  accepted  in  that  age  between 
Christians  and  Moslems,  the  entire  population  of  a  city 
taken  by  storm  was  destined  to  slavery.  Certainly, 
slavery  had  been  the  recognized  lot  of  the  Christian 
population  that  was  not  put  to  death  on  capture  of  a 
city  by  the  Saracens.  An  immense  proportion  of  the 
males  able  to  bear  arms  in  Chandax  had  been  slaugh- 
tered in  battle  and  in  the  murderous  scenes  of  the  three 
days'  storm.  It  was  too  true,  also,  that  no  small  part 
of  the  aged  and  infirm,  the  children  and  infants  of 
both  sexes,  had  shared  the  same  fate.  There  still  re- 
mained thousands  upon  thousands  of  women  and  girls 
who  were  worth  buying,  and  a  certain  number  of 
youths  who  could  •  command  a  price.  The  Arab  his- 
torians, with  exaggeration  characteristic  of  the  age, 
calmly  record  that  two  hundred  thousand  males  were 
slaughtered,  and  as  many  women  and  youths  sold  as 
slaves.  But  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  law  and  re- 
ligion to  the  contrary,  day  by  day,  and  week  after 
week,  the  sales  of  women,  girls,  and  youths  were 
continued,   and   that   of   these    all  who    had   beauty, 

162 


Digenes  and   Fatima:    Roman  or  Saracen 

strength,  and  aptitude  of  any  kind  for  work,  charm, 
or  art,  were  eagerly  contended  for  by  the  professional 
merchants  in  human  flesh. 

One  of  the  strange  incidents  of  the  sales,  and  the 
source  of  constant  disturbance,  arose  from  the  claim 
of  many  of  the  prisoners,  both  girls  and  youths,  that 
they  were  Christians  and  Romans  who  had  been  ab- 
ducted in  childhood  and  sold  as  slaves.  Many  of  these 
had,  more  or  less,  lost  the  use  of  their  Greek  tongue, 
and  in  dress,  manners,  and  ideas,  were  practically 
naturalized  Saracens.  The  plea  was  continually  re- 
sisted by  the  merchants,  and  was,  no  doubt,  very 
often  used  in  fraud;  but  the  vehemence  of  the  pro- 
tests, and  the  eagerness  of  the  captives  to  prove  their 
Christian  faith  and  their  Roman  birth,  gave  rise  to 
perpetual  disputes.  One  of  them  was  in  full  cry  as 
the  general  and  his  staff,  with  Digenes  by  his  side, 
rode  round  the  principal  slave  mart  in  the  camp. 
Seeing  the  general  approach,  a  beautiful  girl,  already 
set  on  the  stage  to  be  inspected  by  the  buyers,  with 
loud  shrieks  invoked  the  protection  of  the  chief.  She 
herself,  her  younger  sister,  and  a  brother,  all  three 
included  in  the  next  lots,  had  been  carried  off  from 
the  island  of  Melos  when  it  was  raided  by  a  Saracen 
fleet  fourteen  years  ago,  in  the  reign  of  Constantine. 
The  girl  had  so  far  lost  her  Greek  speech  that  it  was 
difficult  to  follow  her  at  all ;  and  her  brother  and  sister 
had  lost  it  altogether.  Nicephorus  turned  to  Digenes 
to  question  the  maiden  in  Arabic  and  to  ascertain  if 
she  were  really  of  Roman  birth  and  Christian  faith — 
a  task  which  the  lord  warden,  with  his  own  mixed 
blood  and  training,  was  peculiarly  fitted  to  fulfil. 
"What  is  your  name,  my  daughter,  your  home,  and 
163 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

your  age?"  asked  the  lord  warden,  in  a  tone  of  pa- 
ternal encouragement. 

"I  am  Zoe,  as  my  mother  called  me  as  a  child — but 
they  call  me  here  Zainab.  I  was  seven  years  old,  I 
think,  when  these  cruel  men  carried  me  off  in  a  big 
ship,  but  I  can  remember  my  home  by  the  sea-coast." 

"Was  it  in  the  country  or  in  a  city,  my  daughter, 
that  you  dwelt?" 

"In  a  city  called  Melos,  that  looked  out  towards 
the  rising  sun,"  she  said. 

"And  what  could  you  see  from  your  home?" 

"Oh,  I  well  remember  how  we  would  climb  a  hill 
behind  our  town  and  see  the  sun  rise  over  the  pinnacles 
of  many  islands  that  seemed  to  cover  the  sea  like  stars 
in  the  sky  at  night." 

"Was  the  island  flat,  or  full  of  hills  and  rocks?" 

"Oh,  I  remember  how  we  used  to  climb  the  rocks 
where  goats  fed  and  where  vines  grew,  and  there  was 
a  large  fountain  of  hot  water,  in  which  we  used  to 
bathe,  and  the  marble  steps  in  a  circle,  which  they  said 
the  old  Greeks  built  for  shows,  and  caves  in  the  rocks 
where  we  would  play  at  hide-and-seek.  Yes,  on  clear 
days  in  the  setting  sun  we  could  see  the  far-off  moun- 
tains. We  were  a  day  and  a  night  in  that  dreadful 
ship,  lying  in  the  hold  without  air  or  water,  before 
those  savage  men,  who  killed  father  and  mother, 
brought  us  here." 

"Enough!"  said  the  lord  warden,  and  he  turned 
to  the  general:  "This  girl  clearly  remembers  Melos 
as  her  home;  it  is  the  westernmost  of  the  Cyclades, 
whence  all  these  islands  can  be  seen,  and  the  main-land 
of  Greece  in  the  far  west;  it  has  volcanic  rocks  and 
hot  springs,  for  I  have  touched  on  the  island  myself. 

164 


Digenes  and  Fatima:  Roman  or  Saracen 

No  Saracen  girl  could  know  all  this.  She  and  her  little 
sister  and  brother  must  be  all  Christian  captives,  for 
all  her  Saracen  look  and  speech." 

And  so,  amid  the  cries  of  joy  of  the  rescued  captives, 
the  grumbling  and  disputes  of  the  captors,  merchants, 
and  auctioneers,  and  the  noisy  gossip  of  the  curious 
crowd,  the  general's  cavalcade  passed  on.  And  at 
every  mart  similar  questions  as  to  living  or  inert 
property,  angry  altercations  between  soldiers  and 
civilians,  were  brought  before  the  summary  tribunal  of 
the  staff. 

As  they  rode  slowly  back  from  the  hubbub  of  the 
camp,  Nicephorus  called  Digenes  to  his  side,  out  of 
hearing  of  his  followers.  "I  have  now  matured  the 
scheme,"  he  said,  "on  which  I  intend  to  despatch  you 
on  a  mission,  my  dear  warden,  as  the  man  most  fit 
to  bring  it  to  success.  As  I  told  you,  his  Imperial 
Majesty  has  given  me  full  powers  to  send  an  embassy 
to  the  caliph  of  Spain  to  arrange  a  modus  vivendi,  as 
our  civil  lawyers  call  it,  in  our  respective  conquests 
as  to  our  prisoners  of  war.  Saracens  have  conquered 
and  hold  effective  possession  of  the  noble  island  of 
Sicily,  as  we  have  now  conquered  and  hold  possession 
of  Crete.  In  both  islands  large  masses  of  the  peasants 
and  working-people  belong  to  the  race  and  creed  of  the 
former  masters,  and  in  both  islands  there  are  tens  of 
thousands  of  men  and  women  in  slavery  who  have 
been  struck  down  from  freedom  and  comfort  by  the 
fortune  of  war.  The  caliph  of  Cordova  also  holds  tens 
of  thousands  of  our  brethren.  I  have  had  a  scheme 
prepared  by  learned  and  adroit  protocolists  from 
Constantinople  to  arrange  terms  of  reciprocal  treat- 
ment on  an  equal  footing.     And  we  shall  begin  by  an 

165 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

exchange  of  important  prisoners.  I  have  chosen  you, 
my  dear  akritas,  to  head  the  embassy,  for  you  are  not 
yet  strong  enough  to  undertake  any  warlike  service." 

"My  honored  lord,"  cried  Digenes  in  surprise,  "if 
I  am  not  fit  to  hold  a  sword,  I  am  the  last  man  in  the 
army  to  be  intrusted  with  protocols  and  imperial 
rescripts  in  vermilion  text.  Put  the  charge  on  one 
of  the  imperial  eunuchs  from  the  Purple  Chamber." 

"My  dear  warden,  I  have  cared  for  all  that.  The 
treaty  and  its  clauses  and  provisos  will  be  the  task  of 
the  civilian  diplomats  who  will  be  in  your  train.  Your 
name,  your  birth,  your  knowledge  of  the  Saracen 
tongue  and  manners  make  you  indispensable  for  this 
service.  The  flower  of  our  Roman  chivalry  will  be 
persona  grata  in  the  brilliant  court  of  Abd-er-Rahman, 
the  caliph  at  Cordova,  and  will  make  the  task  of  the 
diplomats  more  easy." 

"And  has  the  lord  general,  'the  victorious,'  at  last 
begun  to  see  some  good  things  as  possible  in  the  blood 
of  Hagar?"  asked  Digenes,  with  an  arch  smile. 

"I  have  never  denied,  my  son,  the  courage  or  the 
devotion  of  the  true  children  of  the  False  Prophet, 
even  when  I  saw  this  courage  and  devotion  to  be  in- 
spired by  the  author  of  all  evil  himself.  They  and  we 
must  fight  it  out  to  the  bitter  end.  But  in  this  secular 
warfare  there  are  truces,  settlements,  and  agreements 
inevitable  and  serving  the  good  purposes  of  God  and 
the  Mother  of  God,  such  as  help  to  the  saving  of  many 
a  soul.  Our  royal  master  himself  has  sent  embassies 
and  made  treaties  with  the  great  caliph,  and  I  am 
obeying  his  orders  and  following  his  example." 

"But  what  particular  part  am  I  to  bear  in  the 
mission?"  said  Digenes. 

166 


Digenes  and   Fatima:    Roman  or  Saracen 

"You  are  to  show  these  proud  emirs  of  the  East 
that  they  have  nothing  to  teach  us  Romans  in  all  the 
courtesies  of  chivalry,  or  the  romance  of  knightly  life. 
And  there  is  another  duty  for  which  my  courtly  son 
is  specially  fitted.  Our  mission  will  include,  besides 
the  customary  presents  and  offerings  of  horses,  jewels, 
and  robes,  a  select  band  from  the  noblest  of  the  Saracen 
families,  both  men  and  women,  who  are  to  be  restored 
to  their  Saracen  kinsfolk  in  token  of  our  honor  and 
good  faith.  Who  so  fit  for  a  charge  so  delicate  as  the 
hero  of  the  eastern  marches?  The  chief  of  these  will 
be  Fatima,  the  orphan  daughter  of  the  giant  emir, 
who  fell  by  my  hand  in  single  combat.  She  is  to  re- 
turn to  her  people  with  a  sister  and  a  child  brother, 
with  other  kinsfolk  of  her  own,  and  her  women  at- 
tendants and  slaves." 

"Choose  some  other  as  her  guardian,  my  lord  gen- 
eral," said  Digenes,  rather  shortly. 

"St.  George!  what  is  this?"  said  the  general,  with 
a  grim  smile.  "Are  you  not  old  friends?  Little  as  I 
know  of  young  hearts  myself,  I  know  that  she  saved 
your  life  and  you  saved  hers.  It  is  thought  you  were 
lovers,  you  have  been  so  much  together,  ever  since 
the  storming  of  the  city.  But,  in  any  case,  there  is 
no  man  on  my  staff  to  whom  I  can  so  confidently  in- 
trust these  noble  women  on  an  honorable  mission  as 
my  gallant  Digenes  Akritas.  I  have  summoned  them 
to  my  headquarters  to  hear  my  purpose.  It  is  a  thing 
fixed,"  said  Nicephorus,  in  a  tone  that  no  man  in  all 
that  host  had  ever  ventured  to  dispute. 

"Lovers!"  muttered  the  lord  warden;  "could  I  love 
any  but  a  true  Christian,  or  any  but — "  and  his  lips 
moved  silently. 

12  167 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

When  they  returned  to  headquarters,  the  noble 
ladies  were  at  once  introduced  and  presented  to  the 
general  —  Fatima,  her  sister  and  her  cousins,  the 
daughters  of  the  Saracen  emirs,  with  their  slaves  and 
attendants. 

"Ladies,"  said  Nicephorus  through  an  interpreter, 
"it  is  the  will  of  our  sovereign  lord,  Romanus,  to 
send  an  embassy  to  treat  of  terms  with  the  illustrious 
Caliph  Abd-er-Rahman  at  Cordova  in  Spain.  With 
that  embassy  we  send  you,  to  be  returned  to  your 
own  people  in  honor,  as  a  pledge  of  our  good  faith, 
and  in  proof  that  the  servants  of  the  Immaculate  Vir- 
gin Mother  make  no  war  upon  her  sex,  and  respect  the 
women  of  those  whom  they  have  conquered  and  slain." 

At  these  words  Fatima  stood  forward  and  spoke. 
She  was  dressed  in  robes  of  deep  mourning,  and  lightly 
veiled.  Her  whole  bearing  was  one  of  profound  de- 
jection and  self-abandonment,  and  her  voice  thrilled 
the  circle  of  fierce  soldiers  by  its  tones  of  poignant 
misery : 

"The  will  of  God  be  done,"  she  sighed;  "be  it  as  my 
lord,  the  general,  orders.  We  are  his  captives;  we 
listen  and  submit." 

"What  would  you  wish  other,  my  daughter?"  said 
Nicephorus,  in  some  surprise  that  Fatima  should  show 
so  little  joy  at  her  return  to  a  Saracen  court.  "Where 
could  you  be  so  well  bestowed? — not  here  in  Crete, 
nor  in  the  empire  of  his  Majesty?" 

"I  am  content  —  and  thank  my  lord,"  she  said — 
and  sighed. 

"The  mission,"  said  the  general,  "will  be  under  the 
command  of  the  lord  warden  of  the  marches,  for 
whose  safety  the  Roman  army  owes  you  thanks,  my 

168 


Digenes  and  Fatima:    Roman  or  Saracen 

daughter;  and  that  noble  officer,  who  can  speak  your 
own  tongue  and  has  kinsmen  in  your  own  race,  has 
personal  charge  of  the  safe  conduct  of  yourself  and 
your  ladies." 

At  this  announcement  the  whole  bearing  of  Fatima 
seemed  to  change.  Her  veil  hardly  concealed  her 
blushes  or  the  joy  that  lit  up  her  eyes. 

"The  lord  warden,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  broken 
with  emotion,  "nursed  my  own  brother  on  his  death- 
bed with  tenderness  and  generosity,  and  the  sister  could 
be  in  no  better  care  than  in  his;"  and  she  raised  her 
veil,  and  with  a  look  of  rapture  that  was  more  than 
gratitude,  Fatima  beamed  her  thanks  to  the  lord  gen- 
eral, to  whom  she  bowed  in  reverence,  with  lowered 
eyes  and  quickened  breath. 

"Withdraw  with  these  ladies,  my  lord  warden,  and 
explain  to  them  freely  in  their  own  language  what  is  the 
imperial  purpose,  and  how  completely  their  comfort 
and  their  dignity  will  be  considered  in  the  mission  of 
which  you  have  command." 

Digenes,  who  foresaw  all  the  difficulties  and  risks  of 
the  situation,  knew  the  general  too  well  to  dream  of 
changing  any  set  purpose  he  had  formed.  His  chivalry 
was  deeply  touched  at  being  appointed  guardian  of 
the  woman  to  whom  he  owed  his  life,  while  his  loyalty 
to  the  imperial  princess  at  home  made  him  shrink 
from  the  society  of  the  beautiful  Saracen  with  whom 
his  lot  seemed  so  strangely  thrown.  He  resolved  to 
execute  the  commission  with  which  he  was  intrusted 
with  all  possible  brevity  and  reserve. 

"Surely,"  said  he,  in  the  tones  of  a  judge  rather  than 
of  a  lover — "surely,  fair  Lady  Fatima,  it  can  give  to 
you  and  your  kinswomen  and  followers  nothing  but 

169 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

happiness  to  be  restored  to  your  own  people  of  the 
Arab  blood  and  the  faith  of  the  Prophet;  and  it  is  my 
charge  to  see  that  everything  shall  be  done  to  bring 
you  to  them  in  safety  and  in  honor." 

"The  purpose  of  the  lord  general  is  most  kind,  and 
I  know  that  these  ladies  with  me  are  full  of  gratitude 
and  pleasure.  But  for  me — I  have  lost  father,  mother, 
brother,  and  have  none  to  care  for,  or  to  care  for  me. 
Cordova  is  not  Chandax ;  nor  is  this  caliph  of  Spain  the 
real  commander  of  the  faithful  or  the  true  successor 
of  the  Prophet.  Where  to  find  that  true  successor  I 
know  not.  Nor  does  any  man  know.  Islam  seems 
passing  away  in  rival  sects  and  hostile  parties.  I  have 
heard  the  Christian  women  who  have  been  in  captivity 
with  us  solace  their  afflictions  and  sufferings  by  calling 
on  Mary,  whom  you  hold  to  sit  beside  your  Allah  in 
heaven.  We  Moslem  women  have  no  Mary  to  in- 
voke. Our  Allah  is  the  God  of  men — of  soldiers — he 
is  no  God  to  us  poor  maidens  who  sorrow  and  de- 
spair!" 

"What!"  said  Digenes,  in  astonishment  which  he 
could  not  control,  "do  you  mean  that  you  might  learn 
in  time  to  call  on  the  Blessed  Mary  yourself,  and  take 
comfort  in  the  example  of  all  the  holy  women  who 
have  devoted  themselves  to  the  Mother  of  God?" 

"Did  the  emir  of  Edessa  forfeit  his  honor  when  he 
bowed  the  knee  to  the  crucified  Redeemer?" 

"God  forbid!  lady,  my  father  was  a  noble  chief  and 
a  true  man ;  and  if  he  forsook  the  Prophet  for  the  Im- 
maculate One,  it  was  a  conversion  inspired  with  love 
of  the  best  and  purest  maiden  in  the  Roman  Empire, 
as  all  men  called  my  sainted  mother!" 

"So  it  is  the  privilege  of  men  to  forsake  the  faith  of 
170 


Digenes  and   Fatima:   Roman  or  Saracen 

their  fathers  for  the  love  of  a  woman.  Such  a  one  is 
not  called  a  renegade,  if  his  conversion  is  the  result  of 
— of  love!" 

"Lady  Fatima,"  said  the  lord  warden  with  pride 
and  almost  with  a  trace  of  warmth,  "the  followers  of 
the  Prophet  did  justice  to  my  father's  honor  as  fully 
as  did  the  followers  of  Christ,  into  whose  ranks  he 
passed  and  among  whom  he  lived  and  died.  The 
dwellers  of  the  Cilician  marches,  where  Christian  and 
Moslem  meet  in  perpetual  combat,  have  learned  to 
value  each  other,  and  to  know  that  the  true  believers 
in  Koran  or  Gospel  have  each  much  to  be  proud  of, 
and  each  have  much  to  envy  in  the  other.  Your 
brother,  whom  I  nursed  on  his  death-bed,  and  I  had 
but  one  heart  and  one  mind  in  many  things.  We 
might  have  been  sons  of  the  same  parents  instead  of  be- 
ing, as  we  were,  sons  of  a  brother  and  a  sister.  Soldiers 
who  have  lived  their  lives  in  doing  battle  for  their 
own  faith  are  of  one  creed  and  one  race  in  Asia  as  in 
Europe,  in  Syria  as  in  Thrace!" 

"And  we  poor  women  have  no  such  privilege?  It 
is  not  permitted  to  women  to  change  their  faith  out  of 
gratitude,  or  sympathy — or  love?"  she  said,  with  a 
melting  tone,  as  her  eyes  grew  dim  and  her  voice  died 
away  in  sighs. 

"The  women  of  Islam,"  he  answered,  with  deference, 
"do  not  go  forth  into  the  great  world,  we  are  assured, 
but  live  a  life  of  retirement  in  their  homes  and  their 
harems.  They  accept  the  faith  and  the  worship  of 
their  fathers,  their  brothers,  or  their  husbands.  They 
do  not  busy  themselves  with  mysteries  of  religion  or 
the  sacred  books  of  saints  and  martyrs.  They  may 
change   their   creed  when   they  change   their    home, 

171 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

but  they  -do  not  listen  to  controversies  about  sacred 
things  and  holy  persons." 

"And  Christian  women  do  this,  you  mean  to  tell 
me,  and  busy  themselves  with  the  things  of  heaven 
and  the  care  of  their  souls?" 

"It  is  natural  that  it  should  be  so,  my  dear  lady, 
when  you  come  to  think  that  next  to  God  the  Almighty, 
and  His  Son,  the  Redeemer  of  mankind,  the  first  and 
holiest  of  beings  is  the  Immaculate  Virgin,  Mother  of 
God,  who  ever  sits  enthroned  in  glory  with  holy  martyr- 
women  and  saints  around  her.  In  Christendom,  in 
our  churches,  in  our  worship,  in  our  sacred  books,  there 
is  quite  as  great  a  part  for  women  as  for  men — nay, 
a  part  greater  and  more  beautiful!"  And  the  akritas 
now  spoke  with  something  of  the  fervor  of  a  priest 
pressing  conversion  on  a  willing  penitent. 

"Ah!  how  could  a  poor,  captive  girl  of  the  Saracens 
come  to  hear  something  of  this  blessed  company  of 
holy  women?  How  could  she  learn  something  of  a 
truly  religious  life  as  open  to  an  ignorant  maiden  who 
had  heard  of  little  but  the  Prophet  and  his  warriors? 
How  could  she  be  brought  to  feel  some  touches  of  the 
trust  and  passion  with  which  Christian  maidens  I  have 
seen  in  sorrow  fling  themselves  on  the  mercy  of  the 
Blessed  Mary  in  heaven?  Mary  —  Mother  of  God — 
it  is  a  name  of  exquisite  beauty  and  tenderness !  Could 
even  I  be  taught  ever  to  utter  it?" 

"Nothing  more  easy,  more  natural,  more  truly 
blessed,"  said  Digenes,  eagerly,  quite  carried  away  with 
the  sudden  hope  that  the  princess  seriously  contem- 
plated her  possible  conversion,  and  at  the  time,  in  the 
warmth  of  his  hopes  for  such  a  result,  quite  unable 
to  read  the  girl's  heart.     "I  could  at  once  enable  you 

172 


Digenes  and   Fatima:   Roman  or  Saracen 

to  make  the  attempt.  Follow  us  with  your  sister  and 
ladies  to  the  capital.  There  you  can  be  placed  in 
charge  of  my  own  sister,  the  Lady  Theodosia  Comnena, 
who  is  now  living  at  her  husband's  castle  in  the  Pro- 
pontis.  Nothing  easier  than  that  I  should  introduce 
you  to  her  family,  and  place  you  in  her  charge.  We 
are  cousins,  are  we  not,  even  if  of  different  creeds?" 

"Yes — we  are  cousins,"  she  said,  slowly,  lingering  on 
that  word  with  a  sense  of  rapture  and  hope  that  she 
struggled  to  master  and  conceal.  "If  we  are  cousins, 
your  sister,  the  Lady  Theodosia,  is  my  cousin,  too!" 

"Certainly!  how  came  I  not  to  see  all  this  at  first? 
And  you  would  be  willing  to  renounce  the  caliph  at 
Cordova,  and  forget  the  return  to  your  Saracen  kin- 
dred and  your  Moslem  life?" 

"Utterly,  joyfully,  forever!  To  be  taken  to  your 
sister,  to  my  own  cousin,  to  be  taken  into  her  fam- 
ily! Oh  yes!  if  heaven  were  offered  me  as  an  alter- 
native I  would  accept  with  joy!  Let  those  who  will 
go  to  Cordova.  I  would  see  Rome,  the  Roman  world, 
and  Roman  life!" 

"Ah!  if  you  could  only  see  our  city,  our  churches, 
our  altars,  and  the  sublime  mosaics  of  Christ,  His 
Mother,  archangels  and  apostles,  and  our  mothers  and 
sisters  before  the  ikons  and  holy  figures  of  Mary,  you 
would  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  Christian  believer,"  said 
Digenes,  quite  carried  away  by  the  thought  of  a  new 
and  so  illustrious  a  convert. 

"And  are  you  sure  that  the  Lady  Theodosia  and 
her  family  would  welcome  me?"  asked  the  Saracen 
princess  somewhat  archly,  as  if  in  real  doubt. 

"She  would  rejoice  to  have  you  in  her  care,  and 
would  treat  you  as  her  own  sister,  just  as  she  has  now 

173 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

in  her  safe  charge  the  Princess  Agatha,  who  has  es- 
caped from  a  convent  prison  and  is  securely  placed 
with  my  sister." 

"And  who,  then,  is  the  Princess  Agatha?"  asked  Fa- 
tima,  abruptly. 

"Who?"  said  Digenes,  impetuously,  "who  but  the 
sister  of  our  sovereign  lord,  Romanus,  whom  cruel 
counsellors  caused  him  to  drive  from  his  palace,  and 
more  cruel  priests  consigned  to  a  living  death  in  a  nun- 
nery of  women." 

"And  what  is  she  like?" 

"She  is  like  the  Blessed  Mary  herself  in  beauty, 
m  purity,  in  mercy,  and  every  grace — the  sweetest, 
best,  and  noblest  woman  in  the  empire  of  Rome, 
whom  the  jealousy  of  palace  counsellors  seeks  to 
snatch  from  wedlock  and  motherhood  and  to  con- 
sign to  the  solitary  cell  of  a  nun;  whom  these  hypo- 
crites and  bigots  dare  to  call  a  bride  of  Christ.  Never 
shall  these  fanatics  endow  their  convents  with  the 
noblest  bride  that  Rome  has  ever  borne!"  and  the 
lord  warden's  look  of  heroic  passion  flamed  in  his  eyes 
and  brought  the  blood  into  his  olive  cheek.  "Never, 
never,  if  I  live!"  he  cried,  hardly  thinking  to  whom  he 
spoke,  in  his  indignation  and  excitement. 

"And  whose  bride  is  she  destined  to  be,  this  peerless, 
this  incomparable  star  of  Rome?  Is  she  the  promised 
bride  of  any  of  your  Roman  heroes?"  asked  Fatima, 
looking  keenly  into  the  eyes  of  Digenes,  and  eagerly 
awaiting  his  answer,  as  of  a  message  of  life  or  death. 

The  lord  warden  answered  not  a  word.  He  tried 
to  speak.  He  began  some  broken  words.  His  em- 
barrassment could  not  be  concealed.  He  now  saw  all 
the  false  attitude  into  which  his  own  want  of  discern- 

174 


Digenes  and   Fatima:   Roman  or  Saracen 

ment,  his  impetuosity,  his  love,  had  betrayed  him.  He 
had  nothing  to  answer.  He  was  dumb  with  confusion 
and  humiliation. 

Fatima  watched  him  closely  and  in  silence,  and 
seemed  to  read  his  heart.  Her  attitude  of  eagerness 
and  of  trust  and  hope  passed  away.  She  fell  back  into 
her  previous  condition  of  abasement  and  silent  despair. 
The  light  passed  from  her  eyes,  and  her  voice  resumed 
its  tone  of  piteous  sorrow  and  hopeless  humility. 

"Cousin,"  she  said,  at  last, in  broken  and  low  tones, 
"I  am  deeply  grateful.  The  sister  of  your  sovereign 
lord  is  too  great  a  person  to  look  on  the  poor  captive 
whose  people  he  has  conquered,  whose  father  his  com- 
mander has  slain.  She  shall  not  look  down  on  her  in 
pity.  Rome  and  its  court  is  no  place  for  the  daughter 
of  Ben-Senoussi;  Fatima  will  abide  with  her  own  peo- 
ple. Leave  her  in  Crete,  or  conduct  her  to  Spain. 
She  will  ask  no  charity  of  Christian  maidens.  Fare- 
well, kind  helper  of  my  brother,  the  preserver  of  Fa- 
tima's  life  and  honor!  Forget  her  forever!  Let  us 
never  meet  again !  Remember  only  that  she  will  never 
forget  you ! ' ' 

And  so,  drawing  close  round  her  the  mourning  robes, 
and  the  long  veil  over  her  face,  with  slow  and  weary 
steps,  without  another  word,  Fatima  passed  over  to 
her  own  tent. 


XIII 

The  Caliph  of  the  West 

HPHE  great  embassy  to  the  Spanish  caliph  arrived 
at  Cordova  under  command  of  Digenes  Akritas, 
and  was  received  with  all  the  pomp  and  dignity  that 
the  mighty  sovereign  of  the  peninsula  could  display 
in  his  Andalusian  capital.  It  was  the  policy  both  of 
the  Roman  and  of  the  Arab  statesmen  to  seek  to  im- 
press their  rivals  with  a  full  sense  of  their  own  high 
civilization,  vast  resources,  and  generous  spirit.  The 
deadly  feuds  that  raged  between  the  Ommeyad  caliphs 
of  Spain  and  the  Abbassid  caliphs  of  Bagdad,  and  also 
with  the  Fatimite  dynasty  of  Mauritania,  inclined  the 
politic  Abd-er-Rahman,  who,  the  first  of  his  house,  had 
assumed  the  sacred  and  historic  title  of  "Commander 
of  the  Faithful,"  to  cultivate  a  good  understanding  with 
the  Roman  emperor  at  Byzantium.  While  Rome  was 
carrying  on  the  internecine  warfare  with  the  Moslems 
of  Asia  against  the  redoubtable  Seif  Eddauleh,  the 
hero  of  the  Hamdanide  dynasty,  the  Basileus  was  a 
useful  counterpoise  in  the  divided  world  of  Islam,  on 
the  principle  that  "the  enemy  of  my  enemy  is  my 
friend."  The  high  intelligence  of  the  great  caliph  and 
the  prosperity  of  his  kingdom,  based  upon  a  vast 
Mediterranean  commerce,  had  'made  any  fanatical 
hostility  to  Christians  an  obsolete  and  discredited  in- 

176 


The  Caliph  of  the  West 

fatuation  which  the  sagacious  sultan  of  Spain  repu- 
diated. 

The  mission  which  Nicephorus  had  despatched  under 
orders  from  the  Sacred  Palace,  but  which  he  neither 
advised  nor  approved,  was  organized  on  a  great  scale. 
Many  officers  of  rank  and  civil  officials  were  included, 
and  among  them  Bardas  Skleros,  commander  of  the 
Armenian  guards,  his  young  friend,  the  Varangian 
Eric,  the  poetic  deacon,  always  in  search  of  epic 
"motives,"  and  some  of  the  financiers  and  diplomatists, 
who  were  attached  to  every  great  imperial  expedition. 
The  Princess  Fatima,  dejected  and  indifferent  for  her- 
self, had  been  induced  to  join  the  party  for  the  sake 
of  her  young  sister  and  brother  and  the  ladies  of  her 
race,  whose  obvious  interest  it  was  to  return  to  a  Mos- 
lem court. 

At  Malaga,  the  seaport  at  which  the  embassy  dis- 
embarked, it  was  met  by  a  splendid  array  of  emirs, 
chamberlains,  and  officers  deputed  by  the  caliph  to 
conduct  the  Romans  to  the  capital.  Even  to  men  ac- 
customed to  the  shipping  of  all  kinds  that  filled  the 
Golden  Horn  and  traversed  the  Hellespont,  the  fleet, 
docks,  and  warehouses  of  the  Arab  realm  were  an  im- 
pressive sight.  The  vizier  Ahmed  conducted  the  lord 
warden  and  his  staff  by  leisurely  stages  to  Cordova. 
And  he  did  not  fail  to  draw  attention  to  the  dense  popu- 
lation along  the  rich  valley  of  the  Guadalquivir  (or, 
as  they  call  it,  al-Wad  ul-Kebir),  the  profusion  of  its 
products,  and  the  active  state  of  agriculture  and  of 
manufactures.  On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  the 
cavalcade  were  able,  from  an  eminence,  to  descry  the 
towers  of  Cordova  itself,  as  it  lay  washed  by  the  noble 
river  and  surrounded  by  the  spurs  of  the  Sierra  Morena 

177 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

mountains:  The  vizier  watched  in  dignified  silence 
the  astonishment  of  the  envoys,  which  they  did  not 
seek  to  conceal. 

The  royal  city  of  the  Ommeyad  caliph  appeared,  in- 
deed, vast  and  magnificent  even  to  the  inhabitants  of 
Byzantium  itself.  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach  in  that 
clear  and  sunny  air,  the  towers,  palaces,  and  mosques 
of  the  capital  continued  in  endless  variety  and  pictu- 
resque confusion. 

"What  may  be  the  extent  of  your  city?"  asked 
Digenes  of  the  vizier. 

"One  of  our  historians  has  calculated  that  it  reaches 
twenty-four  miles  one  way  and  six  on  the  other,  and 
beyond  the  city  walls  are  the  suburbs  in  twenty-seven 
quarters,  each  quarter  having  its  mosques,  markets, 
and  baths  for  the  use  of  those  who  live  in  the  district." 

And  here  the  poetic  deacon,  ever  keen  to  get  accurate 
information,  begged  to  be  told  the  number  of  the  in- 
habitants. 

"I  would  rather  not  charge  my  own  memory,"  said 
the  vizier,  indifferently,  "but  my  librarian  here,  Ibn 
Khaldun,  can  doubtless  give  you  the  figures  you  seek." 

"The  inhabitants  of  the  capital,"  said  Ibn  Khaldun, 
"are  reckoned  now  to  exceed  a  thousand  thousand. 
There  are  three  thousand  eight  hundred  mosques, 
sixty  thousand  palaces  and  mansions,  two  hundred 
thousand  houses  of  the  common  people ;  and  for  their 
convenience  the  city  and  its  suburbs  contain  seven 
hundred  baths  and  eighty  thousand  shops,  together 
with  markets,  hostelries  and  caravansaries  for  mer- 
chants and  their  trains." 

The  poet,  who  was  already  resolved  on  a  description 
of  their  visit,  in  verse,  transferred  all  this  to  his  note- 

178 


The  Caliph  of  the  West 

book,  when  he  had  been  assured  by  the  librarian  that 
it  was  not  the  exaggeration  of  Oriental  eulogy,  but  the 
sober  calculation  of  economic  and  historical  writers. 

At  last  the  entire  embassy  reached  the  city,  where 
they  were  received  with  interest  and  curiosity  in  the 
crowded  streets.  The  Lady  Fatima,  her  kinswomen, 
attendants,  and  slaves,  had  been  consigned  to  the 
personal  charge  of  the  young  Varangian,  with  a  fitting 
retinue  of  male  and  female  servitors.  Eric,  who  had 
received  strict  instructions  to  see  that  the  Cretan  cap- 
tives of  all  ranks  were  cared  for  with  every  possible 
honor,  gazed  upon  the  Lady  Fatima  with  mute  adora- 
tion ;  for  he  was  unable  to  communicate  with  her  in  a 
single  word.  If  he  had  any  instructions  to  give  they 
were  interpreted  to  her  by  one  of  her  attendants,  who 
spoke  the  tongue  of  Rome,  of  which  Eric  himself  had 
but  a  smattering.  The  contrast  between  these  two 
young  creatures,  the  finest  types  of  Northern  and 
Southern  beauty,  of  Scandinavian  strength  and  of  Arab 
fire,  struck  every  eye  that  fell  on  them,  as  they  met 
and  exchanged  a  dignified  salute.  The  Cordovan  mon- 
arch, like  the  Byzantine,  had  long  maintained  a  body- 
guard of  Northern  warriors,  mainly  Scandinavians, 
Alemans,  or  Slavonians,  sold  as  slaves  in  youth,  like 
the  famous  Janissaries  of  modern  Turkey.  The  Span- 
ish Saracens  were  familiar  with  the  bone  and  sinew  of 
these  fair-haired  Norsemen  and  mountaineers,  but  they 
rarely  met  one  of  such  perfect  symmetry  and  brilliant 
color  as  distinguished  the  young  viking  in  his  superb 
mail  of  gold.  Nor  could  all  the  houris  of  Andalusia 
match  the  Lady  Fatima  in  high-bred  grace  and  the 
pensive  and  searching  power  of  her  eyes. 

On  the  appointed  day  the  ambassador  and  his  fol- 
179 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century- 
lowing  were  escorted  in  state  to  the  caliph's  hall  of 
audience.  For  Digenes  himself,  and  for  some  of  the 
higher  officers,  such  as  Bardas  Skleros,  of  the  Armenian 
guard,  men  who  had  seen  the  most  renowned  cities, 
both  of  the  Saracen  and  of  the  Roman  empires,  the 
magnificence  and  beauty  of  the  palace  of  Cordova 
was  not  so  surprising.  But  the  secretaries,  diploma- 
tists, and,  above  all,  the  poetic  deacon,  could  not  re- 
strain their  sense  of  awe  and  admiration.  The  patri- 
otic heart  of  the  poet  almost  misgave  him  as  he  asked 
himself  if  the  city  on  the  Golden  Horn,  "guarded  of 
God,"  and  the  Sacred  Palace  of  the  Basileus  itself, 
really  outshone  the  city  and  residence  of  Abd-er-Rah- 
man  III.  He  even  put  the  question  in  private  to 
Michael,  the  protocolist,  by  his  side,  one  of  the  acutest 
intellects  in  the  Byzantine  chancery. 

"Yes,  the  courts  of  the  caliph  have  almost  as  much 
gold  as  that  of  our  Caesar,  and  their  fantastic  richness 
of  decoration  may  astonish  the  vulgar.  But  it  is  the 
profusion  and  intricacy  of  embroidery  and  lace.  There 
is  nothing  here  of  the  majesty  of  the  massive  colon- 
nades of  Santa  Sophia,  nor  of  the  Golden  Gate  on  our 
outer  walls." 

"But  what  miracles  of  color  and  of  filigree  design 
do  we  not  see  in  those  painted  slabs  and  carved  ceil- 
ings," said  the  poet;  "it  is  like  a  grove  of  roses  and 
myrtles  in  stone  and  enamel." 

"Too  much  like  the  silken  robes  of  our  parakeimo- 
menos,  which  cover  a  huge  but  emasculated  frame," 
said  Michael. 

The  poet  laughed  uneasily  and  looked  round  in- 
stinctively, for  even  in  Spain  he  felt  the  risk  of  a  jest 
at  the  expense  of  Bringas. 

1 80 


The  Caliph  of  the  West 

"And  then  you  will  not  find  there  those  sublime 
images  of  our  saints  and  of  Christ  and  His  Mother, 
such  as  give  so  solemn  a  power  to  our  Christian 
temples.  These  Saracen  figures,  where  any  living 
thing  is  shown,  are  conventional  grotesques.  There  is 
neither  statuary  nor  painting  of  any  kind — least  of  all 
of  women  and  of  the  Mother  of  God.  These  Haga- 
renes  are  worse  than  our  rabid  iconoclasts  themselves." 

The  embassy  passed  on  through  a  series  of  courts, 
surrounded  by  shady  cloisters  and  rich  with  flowers 
and  blossoming  shrubs,  along  corridors  and  halls 
lined  with  troopers  in  coat -of -mail  and  with  chamber- 
lains and  ushers  in  embroidered  robes,  till  at  last  they 
reached  the  great  hall,  where  the  mighty  caliph  sat  in 
audience.  The  salutes  and  obeisances  on  both  sides 
were  duly  performed  with  all  the  stately  ceremony  of 
Constantinople  itself,  and  with  even  more  grace  and 
reserve  of  manner.  And  those  who  have  seen  a  state 
durbar  in  India  may  attain  to  some  idea  of  the  spec- 
tacle it  afforded. 

The  great  caliph,  the  Charlemagne  of  Saracen  Spain, 
was  now  at  the  close  of  his  long  rule  of  half  a  century. 
He  was  seventy-three  years  of  age,  and  a  life  of  inces- 
sant toil  and  of  continual  warfare  had  caused  him  to 
look  at  least  ten  years  older  than  his  actual  years. 
The  reception  of  Digenes  was  almost  the  last  act  of  his 
public  life;  but,  in  spite  of  his  infirmities,  he  insisted 
on  taking  his  place  and  doing  honor  to  the  lord 
warden,  of  whose  family  history  and  personal  prowess 
he  was  perfectly  aware. 

Abd-er-Rahman  III.  still  looked  what  he  was,  the 
greatest  ruler  of  his  age  and  the  noblest  type  of  the 
Saracen  race.     In  fifty  years  he  had  reduced  the  rebels 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

and  traitors  within  his  own  dominion,  had  made  vas- 
sals of  the  Christian  princelets  of  north  Spain,  and 
had  driven  back  the  Mauritanian  invaders  from 
Africa.  He  possessed  a  magnificent  fleet,  a  powerful 
army,  and  a  treasury  of  twenty  millions  of  gold  pieces. 
The  police  of  his  realm  secured  perfect  order  and  peace; 
the  state  of  agriculture  was  in  the  highest  degree  thriv- 
ing; commerce  and  manufactures  were  equally  ad- 
vanced. Supported  by  his  son  and  successor,  Hakim, 
and  his  able  minister,  Ghalib,  the  aged  monarch  re- 
ceived the  lord  warden  right  royally,  and  motioned  him 
to  a  throne  beside  himself  on  the  dais. 

Then  the  credentials  issued  by  Nicephorus  were  read 
by  the  chief  of  the  protocol  service  : 

"Illustrious  and  renowned  sovereign,  commander  of  those 
faithful  to  the  Prophet,  I  am  ordered  by  our  Imperial  Majesty, 
Romanus,  to  send  to  your  capital  city  a  mission  of  the  chief 
officers  and  administrators  from  the  army  of  Crete,  to  treat  of 
urgent  affairs  between  our  respective  realms.  I  have  placed 
at  the  head  of  this  embassy  the  chivalrous  lord  warden  of  the 
eastern  marches,  Basil  Digenes,  the  akritas,  in  whose  veins  are 
mingled  the  blood  of  Saracen  emirs  and  of  Armenian  princes. 
He  and  the  noble  and  learned  envoys  in  this  mission  will 
fully  explain  the  objects  in  view,  which  are  to  secure  amity 
and  reciprocal  concessions  between  your  Majesty  and  our 
own  Sovereign  Lord.  We  send  to  the  court  of  your  Majesty 
many  eminent  persons  of  both  sexes,  whom  the  issues  of  war, 
which  God  above  us  decrees,  have  placed  in  our  hands.  And 
we  seek  an  exchange  of  an  equal  number  of  those  followers  of 
Christ  who  are  now  detained  in  your  realm.  Finally,  we  pro- 
pose an  agreement  between  our  two  councils  for  the  better 
disposal  of  those  Moslems  who  remain  under  our  rule  in  Crete, 
and  also  of  those  Christians  who  abide  under  your  rule  in 
Spain.  The  issues  of  the  great  struggle  between  the  followers 
of  Christ  and  of  the  Prophet  are  in  the  hands  of  God,  whom  we 
all  alike  worship  and  obey.     We  are  His  servants  and  His 

182 


The  Caliph  of  the  West 

creatures,  and  we  can  do  nothing  of  ourselves  save  what  He 
permits.  In  this  we  can  unite  in  one  purpose.  And  it  is  our 
fervent  hope  that  He  Who  has  given  your  Majesty  power  and 
authority  so  great  may  guide  your  counsels  to  meet  in  a  spirit 
of  amity  the  proposals  we  are  ordered  by  our  sovereign  lord, 
the  Basileus,  to  submit  to  your  wisdom.  And  may  God  the 
Merciful,  the  Just,  bring  this  mission  to  a  right  end!" 

The  aged  and  now  infirm  caliph  bowed  his  head 
solemnly,  and  his  white  beard  flowed  over  his  royal 
robes;  but  his  eyes  showed  some  of  their  ancient  fire 
as  with  a  trembling  voice  he  said: 

"No  envoy  from  the  Basileus  of  Rome  could  be 
more  welcome  to  our  court  then  yourself,  lord  warden 
of  the  marches,  whose  very  name  reminds  us  all  of  the 
blending  of  the  races  of  Christ  and  of  Islam,  and  whose 
deeds  of  valor  and  chivalry  of  soul  are  sung  by  the 
poets  of  Europe  and  of  Asia.  It  was  most  fitting  that 
an  agreement  between  our  two  powers  should  be  in- 
trusted to  one  who  embodies  in  his  own  person  and  in 
his  career  of  service  the  qualities  which  both  people 
so  deeply  respect.  The  illustrious  lord  general  of 
your  Basileus  is  as  well  known  to  Islam  as  to  Rome 
itself.  We  cannot  wonder  and  complain  if  his  people 
name  him  'the  Victorious,'  for  the  most  redoubted 
soldiers  of  the  Prophet  have  too  often  felt  the  weight 
of  his  sword.  Islam  has  never  met  any  adversary 
whom  it  has  reason  to  hold  in  such  respect.  We  well 
know  the  fiery  zeal  which  burns  within  his  soul,  and 
we  can  see  in  the  despatch  that  has  been  read  how 
little  to  his  taste  is  the  proposal  of  amity  that  he  has 
been  ordered  to  submit.  But  this  shall  not  prevent 
our  willingness  to  treat  and  to  agree  to  equitable 
terms.  As  Commander  of  the  Faithful,  we  have  our 
13  183' 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

own  duties  of  peaceful  government  as  well  as  the  de- 
fence of  our  realm  in  war.  Our  court  has  statesmen 
as  well  as  warriors.  Peace  hath  its  victories,  as  well 
as  war.  The  proposals  of  your  Basileus,  with  whom 
we  have  as  yet  many  bonds  of  good  understanding, 
shall  be  referred  to  our  counsellors  and  not  to  our 
soldiers.  Nicephorus,  'the  Victorious,'  has  subdued 
in  Crete  a  tribe  who  were  but  rebels  to  our  dynasty, 
outcasts  and  fugitives  from  our  rule  in  Spain.  Now 
that  he  speaks  words  of  peace,  however  little  they 
seem  natural  to  his  soldier's  mouth,  they  shall  be 
considered  and  answered  by  our  men  of  peace.  When 
the  time  comes  he  may  find  in  the  sons  of  Arabia  and 
followers  of  the  Prophet  a  zeal  as  fiery  as  that  with 
which  he  himself  is  consumed.  When  that  day  shall 
dawn,  tell  your  illustrious  general  that  it  is  the  daily 
prayer  of  the  Commander  of  the  Faithful  that  God, 
the  Just,  the  Almighty,  may  give  the  crown  of  glory 
to  the  right." 

The  aged  caliph  was  visibly  affected  by  the  effort 
he  had  made  to  receive  the  mission;  he  sank  back  on 
his  divan  exhausted,  and  was  only  prevented  from 
fainting  by  the  care  of  his  son,  Hakim,  and  the  staff 
around  him.  The  durbar  was  hastily  closed,  and 
officers  of  the  mission  withdrew  with  appropriate 
salaams  and  compliments.  They  were  now  placed  in 
the  hands  of  the  vizier's  secretaries  and  the  librarian, 
Ibn  Khaldun,  who  were  directed  to  escort  them  to 
view  the  chief  sights  of  the  capital.  After  exploring 
all  the  courts  and  halls  of  the  caliph's  palace,  they  were 
taken  to  the  famous  mosque,  which  still  remains  in 
part  in  the  singular  cathedral  of  Cordova.  The  vast 
and  stately  Court  of  Oranges  had  recently  been  com- 


The  Caliph  of  the  West 

pleted,  and  was  adorned  with  a  thousand  orange-trees 
in  bloom,  at  which  the  Byzantines  gazed  in  delight 
and  wonder.     This  splendid  fruit  was  not   yet   accli- 
matized in  Europe,  and  had  been  introduced  but  re- 
cently into  Andalusia  from  Syria  by  the  care  of  Abd-er- 
Rahman  himself.    Mixed  with  roses  from  Damascus,  the 
groves  of  oranges  in  the  quadrangular  court,  shaded 
with  a  rich  cloister,  seemed  to  the  Romans  a  vision 
of  paradise.     Close  by  rose  the  exquisite  Campanile, 
which   resembled   the   lower   part   of   that   which   we 
know  as  the  Giralda  at  Seville,  though  it  was  in  a  style 
of  art  more  solid  and  severe.     And  the  centre  of  the 
Court   of   Oranges   was    occupied   with   the   beautiful 
fountain  of  African  marbles,   porcelain,  and  enamel, 
which  the  caliph  had  only  finished  within  a  few  years. 
But  all  the  surprise  of  the  Romans  was  doubled  as 
they  entered  the  great  mosque  itself,  which  was  still 
being    further    enlarged    and    adorned.     They    found 
themselves    in    a    forest    of   marble    columns   bearing 
arches    in    fantastic    forms,   with   exquisite    patterns 
traced   in   relief   and   bright   with   enamel   and   gold. 
Again  the  deacon  had  recourse  to  his  note-book,  and 
was  anxious  to  learn  their  number  and  origin.    "There 
are  said  to  be  twelve  hundred  columns,  arranged  in 
eleven    aisles;    and    they    have    been    collected    from 
temples   and   palaces   of   the   ancients   in   Spain   and 
Africa,  or  they  have  been  carved  by  our  artificers  from 
antique   models,"  said  the  librarian,  "but  his   High- 
ness, the  Lord  Hakim,  is  even  now  enlarging  the  aisles 
and  carrying  them  on  to  double  their  extent." 

Thence  the  visitors  were  led  into  the  chapel,  adorned 
with  mosaics  obtained  from  Byzantium  direct, through 
the   easy   munificence   of   Romanus   himself.     In  the 

185 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Ceca  they  were  shown  the  pavement  of  pure  silver,  and 
the  exquisite  marbles  and  alabaster  with  which  the 
shrine  was  adorned.  By  special  grace  of  Prince  Hakim 
they  were  even  permitted  to  look  on  the  sacred  copy 
of  the  Alcoran  which  had  been  used  by  the  Caliph 
Osman,  the  successor  of  the  Prophet,  and  stained 
with  his  blood  when  he  fell.  From  the  roof  hung  two 
hundred  chandeliers,  containing  ten  thousand  lamps. 
And  as  they  passed  out  into  the  court -yard  from  this 
forest  of  marble  and  gold,  a  vehement  debate  arose  be- 
tween Michael,  the  protocolist,  and  the  poetic  deacon, 
whether  the  solemn  vaults  of  the  Holy  Wisdom  of 
Justinian  could  hold  their  own  against  the  myriad 
shafts  and  arabesques  of  the  mosque  of  the  Caliph 
Abd  -er-Rahman . 

The  younger  members  of  the  mission  were  then  con- 
ducted through  a  country  crowded  with  villas,  gar- 
dens, and  orchards,  for  an  hour's  ride  to  the  vast 
palace  of  Az-zahra,  or  "The  Beautiful,"  built  by  the 
great  caliph  for  his  favorite  wife.  It  was  constructed 
entirely  of  marble  of  various  hues — white,  onyx,  rose- 
colored,  and  green.  The  courts  and  fountains  were 
adorned  with  gold  and  enamels,  and  gardens  and  shady 
cloisters  stretched  around.  In  the  palace  were  four 
thousand  three  hundred  columns  of  marble.  Into  the 
great  hall  of  the  caliphate  were  eight  lofty  doors, 
overlaid  with  plates  of  gold  and  studded  with  precious 
stones.  And  the  walls  were  adorned  with  carved  tra- 
ceries in  alternate  squares  of  ebony  and  ivory.  The 
separate  apartments  numbered  more  than  a  thousand, 
and  the  service  of  the  palace  was  conducted  by  thir- 
teen thousand  male  and  six  thousand  female  domes- 
tics, while  the  guard  and  watch  were  kept  by  Slavoni- 


The  Caliph  of  the  West 

ans  and  Northern  Janissaries,  who  were  said  to  number 
no  less  than  three  thousand  seven  hundred  and  fifty 
in  all. 

In  the  mean  time  the  deacon,  Michael,  the  protocol- 
ist,  and  other  secretaries  were  conducted  by  the  libra- 
rian, Ibn  Khaldun,  to  the  great  library  of  the  caliph, 
which  at  that  time  was  reckoned  as  the  largest  and 
most  important  collection  in  the  civilized  world,  and 
was  said  to  contain  four  hundred  thousand  manu- 
scripts. All  the  works  which  had  been  collected  by 
Haroun  -  al  -  Rashid  and  the  caliphs  of  Bagdad,  by 
the  Ommeyads  of  Damascus,  as  well  as  by  the  dy- 
nasty of  Spain,  were  here  gathered  together.  Lexi- 
cons, biographies,  grammars,  histories,  geographies, 
rhetoric,  works  on  chemistry,  geometry,  medicine,  as- 
tronomy, and  poetry — all  were  in  turn  exhibited  and 
discussed. 

But  what  impressed  the  diplomatists  most  strikingly 
was  the  great  library  of  Greek  works,  from  Aristotle 
and  Plato  downward,  Theophrastus,  Galen,  Hippoc- 
rates, and  Appollonius,  and  complete  collections  of  the 
astronomical  and  mathematical  works  of  Archimedes, 
Hipparchus,  Eudoxus,  Diophantus,  and  Ptolemy.  These 
Greek  philosophers  and  physicists  were  far  more  high- 
ly valued  and  better  understood  by  the  savants  of 
Islam  than  by  the  Christians  of  the  empire.  The 
deacon  and  his  diplomatists  were  not  so  much  aston- 
ished to  see  in  the  book -cases  of  Cordova  the  entire 
works  of  Aristotle,  Theophrastus,  Hipparchus,  Galen, 
and  Heron,  as  a  modern  scholar  would  be,  for  these 
writers  were  still  to  be  found  for  the  most  part  in  the 
libraries  of  the  empire.  But  they  saw  with  pride  and 
no  small  surprise  that  the  entire  extant  writings  of  the 

187 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

philosophers  and  physicists  of  Greece  were  the  ordinary 
equipment  of  a  Saracen  library. 

The  members  of  the  mission  were  occupied  for  days 
in  surveying  the  capital  of  the  great  caliph — its  re- 
sources, architectural,  mechanical,  commercial,  artistic, 
and  literary.  They  were  shown  over  the  great  aque- 
duct which  Abd-er-Rahman  III.  had  recently  erected  to 
convey  to  the  city  pure  spring  water  from  the  moun- 
tains of  the  Sierra  Morena.  His  predecessors  had  al- 
ready supplied  Cordova  with  abundant  aqueducts, 
fountains,  and  baths,  so  that  it  almost  vied  with 
ancient  Rome  in  the  age  of  the  Antonines,  and  was 
quite  as  well  supplied  as  Byzantium  in  the  age  of  Ro- 
manus.  The  new  aqueduct  had  only  been  completed 
twenty  years  before.  It  rose  on  three  tiers  of  arches, 
similar  to  those  of  the  Aqua  Claudia,  which  spans  the 
Campagna  at  Rome,  and  it  discharged  a  constant  river 
of  pure  water  into  a  vast  central  reservoir,  which  sup- 
plied public  fountains  and  private  palaces.  Every 
mansion  of  any  importance  had  its  garden,  fountain, 
and  flowing  rivulet.  The  hydraulic  system  was,  in- 
deed, more  complete  than  what  Rome  had  known  in 
the  age  of  the  Caesars,  for  the  Arabs  of  Spain  were  the 
first  engineers  of  that  age.  The  poet  and  the  young 
guardsman  were  particularly  delighted  with  the  gar- 
dens of  Rusafa,  which  had  been  stocked  with  rare 
plants  and  flowers  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  especially 
from  the  gardens  of  Syria,  Persia,  India,  and  Egypt. 
The  orange,  the  lemon,  citron,  the  almond,  and  the 
palm,  laurel,  and  myrtle,  were  cultivated  in  sheltered 
spots  and  were  a  never-failing  delight  to  the  northern 
visitors.  But  that  which  most  fascinated  the  Byzan- 
tines were  the  wild  animals  confined  in  houses  con- 


The  Caliph  of  the  West 

nected  with  the  gardens,  especially  the  various  kinds 
of  gazelles  of  the  East,  the  golden -pheasants,  the 
ostrich,  the  white  ibis,  the  cheetahs,  and  the  lions. 
The  young  Varangian  was  quite  excited  out  of  his 
natural  placidity  by  a  hunt  of  deer  by  the  cheetah,  as 
now  used  in  India,  while  the  poet  was  equally  excited 
by  a  kind  of  race  between  antelopes  which  were  allowed 
a  free  run  in  an  enclosed  course. 

In  the  midst  of  the  festivities  and  the  hospitalities 
a  sudden  event  plunged  the  whole  city  in  gloom.  The 
aged  caliph,  exhausted  by  the  effort  he  had  made  to 
receive  with  dignity  the  envoys  of  Nicephorus,  had 
been  seized  with  a  succession  of  fainting  fits,  in  the 
course  of  which  he  had  died.  His  death  had  been  con- 
cealed even  from  the  foreign  mission  until  the  suc- 
cession of  his  son,  Hakim  II.,  had  been  duly  secured. 
And  this  was  carried  out  with  great  energy  and  de- 
spatch by  the  Grand  Vizier  Ahmed  and  the  command- 
er-in-chief, the  Emir  Ghalib.  In  due  time  the  new 
caliph,  having  been  recognized  by  the  heads  of  the 
army,  the  mosques,  and  the  administration,  received 
in  audience  Digenes  and  his  officers  and  suite.  After 
official  compliments  and  addresses,  Hakim  admitted 
Digenes  to  a  private  audience.  With  all  the  zeal  of 
his  father  for  good  government,  peace,  prosperity,  and 
order,  the  new  Commander  of  the  Faithful  had  an  even 
greater  devotion  to  art,  science,  and  literature,  and 
was  conscious  that  he  had  a  harder  task  and  inferior 
powers.  In  reply  to  the  felicitations  of  the  lord 
warden  on  the  glory  of  the  late  caliph's  rule,  and  on 
the  noble  empire  to  which  he  had  now  succeeded, 
Hakim  replied,  with  a  sigh: 

"Yes,  my  royal  father  ruled  over  his  realm  for  fifty 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

years ;  and  those  who  look  at  the  power,  wealth,  renown, 
and  splendor  of  his  caliphate  may  be  disposed  to  call 
him  one  of  the  happiest  of  men,  with  a  double  measure 
of  the  goodness  of  Allah.  But  I,  who  have  lived  in 
his  home  and  for  long  years  shared  his  duties,  know 
too  well  that  he  was  the  most  sombre,  if  not  one  of  the 
most  miserable  of  men.  His  favorite  wife,  for  whom 
the  palace  of  Az-zahra  was  built  and  after  whom  it 
was  named,  died  before  it  was  completed,  and  since 
the  death  of  my  elder  brother,  our  father  was  never 
seen  to  smile." 

"But  was  not  your  brother  killed  in  the  hour  of 
victory?"  said  Digenes. 

"Not  my  eldest  brother,  Abdallah.  He  had  been 
so  infatuated  as  to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  a  revolt, 
and  suffered  himself  to  be  proclaimed  as  caliph  by 
rebels.  When  defeated  and  captured,  our  father  in 
solemn  council  decided  that  he  must  die  the  death  of 
a  traitor  to  Islam.  Our  sacred  faith  is  being  put  in 
peril  by  treason  in  the  families  of  the  descendants  of 
the  Prophet.  It  was  held  to  be  fatal  to  our  empire 
of  the  West  if  treason  were  suffered  to  prosper  in  the 
house  of  the  Ommeyads  of  Andalusia.  I  myself,  my 
mother  and  my  sisters,  threw  ourselves  on  our  knees 
in  tears  at  my  father's  feet  and  implored  his  mercy 
for  my  brother,  who  had  been  formally  named  as  his 
successor.  It  was  not  to  be.  He  said,  T  am  caliph 
first,  and  father  afterwards.  As  father  I  shall  weep 
tears  of  blood  for  my  son  all  my  life,  but  as  caliph 
I  must  purge  this  fair  land  of  a  traitor!'  So  our 
brother  was  bowstrung  in  the  court  of  the  palace,  and 
my  father  never  had  a  happy  day  after.  Here,  see," 
said  Hakim,  with  tears  filling  his  eyes,  "this  is  a  paper 

190 


The  Caliph  of  the  West 

attached  to  my  father's  testament.  It  runs  thus,  and 
is  inscribed  in  his  own  scholarly  hand :  '  Fifty  years 
have  I  been  on  this  throne.  Riches,  honors,  pleasures 
have  been  poured  on  me,  and  I  have  drained  them 
all  to  the  dregs.  The  sovereigns  who  are  my  rivals 
respect  me  or  fear  me — both  envy  me ;  for  all  that  men 
desire  has  been  showered  on  me  by  Allah,  the  Bounti- 
ful, the  All-merciful.  But  in  all  these  years  of  appar- 
ent felicity,  I  can  only  count  fourteen  days  wherein  I 
have  been  truly  happy.  My  son,  meditate  on  this, 
and  judge  at  their  true  value  human  grandeur,  this 
world,  and  man's  life.' 

"Our  priests  talk  thus,"  said  Digenes,  "but  I  never 
heard  of  an  emperor  who  spoke  such  words." 

"Remember,"  said  Hakim,  "that  a  caliph  who  de- 
scends from  the  Prophet  and  occupies  his  place,  is 
at  once  a  Prophet  of  Allah  and  sovereign  lord — priest, 
king,   and  commander!" 

The  whole  mission  were  present  at  the  funeral  of  the 
great  caliph,  which  was  conducted  with  extraordinary 
magnificence.  Forty  thousand  troopers  in  full  array 
on  black  barbs  guarded  the  procession  from  the  palace 
to  the  royal  burial-place  in  the  hills  outside  the  walls. 
The  whole  population  of  the  city,  the  suburbs,  and 
the  country  round  came  to  honor  their  deceased  chief. 
Banners  and  trophies  of  war  were  displayed  in  pro- 
fusion. The  funeral  procession  itself  was  on  foot. 
First  came  long  files  of  imaums,  sheiks,  and  learned 
elders,  then  a  crowd  of  dervishes,  who  chanted  dirges 
of  plaintive  sound,  slaves,  attendants,  and  ministers, 
and,  at  last,  Hakim,  the  new  caliph,  on  foot  and  alone 
before  the  bier.  The  coffin  of  Abd-er-Rahman  was 
covered  with  a  carpet  that  had  once  been  a  relic  in  the 

191 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

mihrab  of  Mecca:  it  was  borne  on  a  platform  raised 
on  the  shoulders  of  twelve  gigantic  guards  in  the  uni- 
form of  the  palace  troops.  The  envoys  of  Rome  gazed 
on  a  sight  which,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  the  vast 
extent  of  Constantinople,  and  to  the  vehemence  of  a 
Byzantine  populace,  astonished  them  both  by  the 
enormous  numbers  of  the  people  and  by  their  frenzied 
expressions  of  grief.  The  deacon  roundly  insisted 
that  more  than  one  million  of  men  and  women  had 
witnessed  or  taken  part  in  the  funeral  ceremony.  As 
the  bier  of  the  great  caliph  approached  the  crowd, 
and  even  long  after  it  had  passed,  cries  of  grief  and 
despair,  of  Asiatic  pungency,  and  wild  notes  of  agony 
re-echoed  along  the  streets  and  across  the  squares  of 
the  city. 

"We  have  seen  the  passing  of  a  great  man — of  an 
emperor  truly  beloved  by  his  people,"  said  Michael, 
the  protocolist,  in  a  low  voice,  to  the  deacon.  "What 
would  the  funeral  of  our  own  beloved  lord  and  master 
be  like,  think  ye,  my  friend?  Ay,  and  what  would  be 
the  funeral  of  his  successor,  if  successor  he  is  to  have? 
Is  it  certain  that  Christ  and  His  Blessed  Mother  have 
ordained  that  the  Cross  shall  prevail  over  the  Crescent 
forever?" 


XIV 
The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 

SOME  months  have  passed,  and  the  scene  changes 
to  Asia.  Nicephorus  Phocas  was  now  in  supreme 
command  of  an  immense  host  echelonned  along  the 
Cilician  frontier,  having  its  headquarters  at  Caesaria  in 
Cappadocia.  He  bluntly  refused  the  offer  of  the  politic 
prefect  to  occupy  the  prefecture  within  the  city,  and 
he  had  his  quarters  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  great 
camp,  which  lay  in  the  plain  beyond.  Cassaria  was  at 
that  epoch  a  great  and  splendid  city  of  the  empire, 
well  situated  on  a  branch  of  the  noble  river  Halys,  and 
within  sight  of  the  snowy  peak  of  Mount  Argaeus,  the 
highest  point  of  the  Taurus  range.  But  Nicephorus 
disdained  both  for  himself  and  his  army  the  comforts 
of  a  luxurious  city,  to  which  he  had  forbidden  all  access 
by  the  troops.  As  a  wealthy  and  populous  centre  of 
trade,  as  the  point  of  junction  for  all  the  great  high- 
ways, north,  west,  and  south,  Caesaria  formed  an  ad- 
mirable base  for  a  great  expedition.  The  general  him- 
self had  for  his  own  use  a  small  and  simple  camp -tent, 
rudely  equipped,  and  in  no  respect  superior  to  the  rest 
of  the  service  baggage.  Near  it  stood  a  larger  tent,  in 
which  he  held  councils  and  conferred  with  his  staff 
and  officers  of  rank. 

His  return  to  Byzantium  after  the  conquest  of  Crete, 
193 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

and  his  ovation  in  the  Hippodrome,  where  he  presented 
to  the  Basileus  the  aged  kouropas  of  Crete  and  his  son, 
Anemas,  as  prisoners  of  war,  had  called  out  such  an 
explosion  of  popular  enthusiasm  that  the  inner  cabinet 
of  the  Sacred  Palace  was  alarmed,  and  Bringas,  the 
parakeimomenos,  was  filled  with  jealousy  and  rage. 
Unable  to  stem  the  torrent  of  public  favor  towards 
the  victorious  commander,  Bringas  persuaded  the  em- 
peror to  order  Nicephorus  to  the  Asian  frontier.  The 
wily  eunuch  took  care  to  load  with  honors  and  titles 
the  enemy  whom  he  was  sending  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  capital.  Romanus  heaped  on  his  victorious 
general  magnificent  presents,  overwhelmed  him  with 
gracious  words,  and  gave  him  a  rank  equivalent  to 
"generalissimo  of  the  army -corps  of  the  east."  The 
interviews  between  the  soldier  and  the  sovereign  had 
been  of  a  sort  little  known  in  the  Sacred  Palace. 

Debauchery,  excitement,  and  exhausting  fatigues 
had  wasted  the  splendid  frame  of  Romanus.  Pale, 
with  wild  eyes  in  their  sunken  sockets,  and  limbs  trem- 
bling in  all  their  joints,  the  young  Basileus  received  his 
great  officer  with  all  the  grace  and  good-nature  for 
which  he  was  conspicuous.  He  lavished  on  him  every 
honor  and  every  promise  that  he  could  imagine  as 
likely  to  tempt  the  veteran;  and,  without  sharing  the 
jealousy  of  the  court  eunuch  and  without  understand- 
ing his  device,  Romanus  pressed  on  Nicephorus  the 
command  of  the  eastern  armies. 

"My  Lord  Basileus,"  said  the  soldier,  "I  have  done 
my  duty  to  my  God,  and  to  my  sovereign,  and  by  the 
blessing  of  Christ  and  His  Mother  in  heaven,  I  gave 
the  best  years  of  my  life  to  this  empire  of  Rome. 
I  am  now  about  to  retire  to  take  thought  of  my  own 

194 


The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 

soul,  to  atone  for  the  life  of  battle,  of  blood,  and  ruin 
in  which  it  has  been  passed.  I  am  resolved  to  take 
vows  of  monkhood,  and  to  end  the  bitter  dregs  of  life 
that  are  left  to  me  in  a  hermitage  on  Mount  Athos. 
My  lord,  when  you  next  summon  me,  you  will  learn 
that  I  am  no  longer  your  officer,  but  the  solitary  servant 
of  Christ  and  of  her  who  bore  Him." 

Neither  entreaties  nor  promises  nor  commands  could 
move  the  stubborn  soul  of  the  soldier.  He  left  the 
presence  with  the  barest  observance  of  the  prescribed 
ceremonies,  saying:  "Do  not  forget,  mighty  king  of 
Rome,  that  there  is  in  heaven  above  us  a  King  over 
all  kings,  and  on  earth,  beside  each  of  us,  there  is  the 
angel  of  death,  who  but  waits  the  signal  from  on  high 
to  strike." 

As  Nicephorus  stalked  away  down  the  corridor 
amid  lines  of  excubitors  and  cubiculars,  who  could 
hardly  decide  whether  to  honor  the  great  hero  of  the 
day,  or  to  slight  the  enemy  of  the  all-powerful  eunuch, 
a  chamberlain  from  the  empress  brought  him  a  sum- 
mons to  attend  her  in  private  audience.  With  a  mut- 
tered excuse  Nicephorus  passed  on  with  hastened 
strides.  But  at  a  turn  of  the  corridor  Theophano  her- 
self, radiant  with  smiles  and  in  all  the  charm  of  her 
superb  grace,  confronted  the  veteran  in  his  very  path, 
and  beckoned  him  into  her  closet  alone. 

"I  overheard  your  terrible  resolve,"  she  said,  in  a 
voice  thrilling  with  entreaty  as  well  as  indignation, 
"but  I  will  not  believe  that  one  who  is  the  only  hope 
and  bulwark  of  our  country  can  deliver  it  over  to  the 
sons  of  Hagar  and  the  followers  of  the  False  Prophet. 
Will  you  rest  in  peace  in  your  cell,  and  whine  out  your 
Kyrie,  eleison,  when  you  see  the  accursed  Chamdas  defile 

J95 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  altars  of  God  and  chant  prayers  to  Allah  under 
the  dome  of  the  Holy  Wisdom?  Did  the  Mother  of 
God  vouchsafe  you  power  to  gain  such  glorious  vic- 
tories over  the  camel  -  driver  and  his  race  that  you 
thus  abandon  her  people  and  her  shrines  to  the  abomi- 
nation of  desolation  ? "  And  she  looked  down  on  him, 
majestic  and  inspired,  like  the  Cumaean  Sibyl  in  Raph- 
ael's fresco  at  Rome. 

"There  are  swords  as  good  as  mine,"  muttered  the 
veteran,  visibly  abashed  and  humbled,  "and  younger 
men  than  I,  who  have  not  my  sins  to  wash  out." 

"Nicephorus,  victor,  hero,"  she  cried  with  rapture, 
seizing  his  brawny  hand  in  both  of  hers,  "the  army 
will  follow  none  but  you!  You,  you  are  the  hero  of 
all  Rome  and  of  all  its  tributary  races.  The  rest  are 
boys  or  martinets.  Save  us,  protect  us,  comfort  us, 
or  we  poor  women  may  yet  be  swept  into  the  harems 
of  the  infamous  libertines  of  Islam!" 

Nicephorus  was  speechless ;  a  shudder  shook  his  huge 
breast,  but  he  could  find  no  words. 

"Have  you  no  eyes? "  she  whispered,  with  that  silver 
tone  of  fascination  that  was  her  peculiar  secret  and 
gift;  "have  you  not  seen  that  wine,  lechery,  and  furi- 
ous sports  have  marked  that  fribble  you  have  just  left 
to  a  premature  doom?  He  will  never  see  another  sum- 
mer. And  when  I  am  no  longer  Augusta,  who  will 
protect  me  and  my  babes  ?  To  whom  could  I  look  but 
to  the  hero  whom  all  Roman  men  delight  to  follow, 
whom  all  Roman  women  trust  and  honor — trust  and 
love?"  she  whispered,  looking  into  his  eyes  and  draw- 
ing herself  slowly  towards  him  till  she  gathered  him  in 
her  arms  and  sobbed  upon  his  shoulder.  "Go  to  the 
Asian  frontier,  crush  the  Hagarene!     You  shall  have 


The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 

from  the  palace  absolute  power  and  authority,  military 
and  civil.  You  shall  be  the  true  Basileus  in  the  field, 
before  you  return  to  be  the  Basileus  in  the  palace!" 
Then  she  rushed  away  in  tears,  and  left  the  chief- 
tain quite  dazed,  drunk  with  perplexity,  and  mad  with 
passion. 

So  Nicephorus  took  up  the  command  on  the  eastern 
frontier,  having  received  from  the  Basileus  and  his  min- 
isters plenary  authority  to  raise  and  equip  an  army, 
with  power  over  all  the  forces  and  all  the  reserves  of 
the  empire,  civil  and  military,  in  any  theme  of  Asia. 
For  some  months  he  worked  incessantly  at  his  task, 
and  mustered  the  most  powerful  army  known  to  his 
age. 

Nicephorus  was  now  seated  in  the  larger  tent,  to 
which  he  had  summoned  in  council  his  chief  officers. 
First  came  Basil  Digenes,  the  warden  of  the  marches, 
again  chief  of  the  general's  staff.  Beside  him  was 
Bardas  Skleros,  commander  of  the  Armenian  guard, 
Leon  Balantes,  Bourtzes,  and  other  generals,  and 
last  entered  the  illustrious  John  Tzimisces,  the  rival 
and  ultimate  successor  of  Nicephorus.  An  Armenian 
noble  of  the  highest  rank  —  his  real  nickname  was 
Tchemeschguig,  or  the  Little,  a  sound  which  no  Greek 
throat  could  utter — John  was  the  hero  of  a  hundred 
desperate  combats.  His  courage  was  even  more  reck- 
less and  romantic  than  that  of  Nicephorus,  and,  as  a 
mere  cavalry  leader,  he  was  almost  the  equal  of  the 
great  chief.  Short  of  stature,  he  had  prodigious 
strength,  with  the  activity  and  suppleness  of  an  acro- 
bat. Matchless  in  all  military  exercises,  and  un- 
rivalled  in   the   lists,   his   frankness,   generosity,   and 

197 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

affable  temper  made  him  the  idol  of  men,  while  his 
fiery  beauty,  grace,  and  high  spirits  made  him  the  idol 
of  women.  In  the  matter  of  temperance,  chastity, 
and  piety,  John  was  the  very  opposite  of  Nicephorus. 

Nicephorus  opened  the  council  thus: 

"My  comrades  and  commanders  of  the  eastern  corps, 
I  have  summoned  you  to  hear  the  plan  of  campaign, 
and  to  take  counsel  as  to  the  task  before  each  con- 
tingent of  our  host.  The  latest  field  state  shows  that 
we  have  a  force  of  all  arms  of  two  hundred  and  thir- 
teen thousand  men,  of  whom  forty-two  thousand  are 
cavalry,  with  one  hundred  and  twelve  thousand  horses, 
mules,  asses,  and  camels;  and  these  are  in  cantonments 
along  the  range  of  Taurus  over  against  Cilicia,  extend- 
ing nearly  one  hundred  Roman  miles.  The  details  of 
the  numbers  and  their  exact  position  of  encampment 
will  remain  for  the  present  known  only  to  myself  and 
my  secretaries.  When  the  hour  of  advance  has  come, 
due  orders  will  be  issued  to  the  commands  which  are 
to  invade  the  enemy  and  to  those  which  will  remain  in 
reserve." 

"And  may  we  know  the  day  and  the  line  of  the  ad- 
vance, my  lord  general?"  broke  in  the  impetuous  John 
Tzimisces. 

"The  day  and  the  place  of  invasion,  my  noble  friend," 
said  Nicephorus,  with  a  dry  smile,  "must  remain  known 
to  God  above — and  to  me.  In  a  campaign  such  as 
this  we  must  rely  on  overwhelming  numbers  and 
lightning  rapidity  of  execution  to  secure  our  end.  The 
divided  state  of  the  Hagarenes  will  prevent  them  from 
meeting  us  in  great  pitched  battles.  But  it  is  a  vast 
territory  in  which  they  are  settled,  and  the  most  diffi- 
cult to  invade  in  all  God's  earth.     It  bristles  with  forts 

198 


The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 

on  inaccessible  rocks,  with  mountain  defiles  and  dense 
woods,  and  is  defended  by  a  girdle  of  fortified  towns. 
We  have  to  pour  down  over  these  passes  on  all  sides 
at  once,  like  the  snows  in  spring  when  they  rush  down 
the  gorges  of  Taurus;  we  must  overwhelm  these  forts 
and  towns  like  a  sudden  flood,  and  all  Cilicia  will  be 
again  within  the  fold  of  Rome — and  of  Christ!" 

"And  when  we  have  won  back  Cilicia  we  shall  have 
gained  but  a  corner  of  the  empire  of  Chamdas,  whose 
realm  reaches  to  the  Euphrates,"  broke  in  Bourtzes, 
somewhat  surlily. 

"Most  true,  my  Lord  Bourtzes,"  replied  the  general, 
with  a  voice  that  vibrated  with  fervor  and  faith,  "but 
that  corner  is  the  key  of  the  power  of  Islam  in  Asia. 
When  we  hold  Cilicia  as  a  base,  we  will  descend  over 
the  ranges  of  Amanus,  even  as  we  are  about  to  push 
through  those  of  Taurus.  Then — Syria  is  ours  again, 
is  Christ's  again.  The  sacred  land  in  which  our  Sav- 
iour deigned  to  be  born  as  man,  the  hill  of  Calvary 
whereon  He  died,  the  tomb  wherein  His  body  lay  till 
the  third  day,  shall  no  longer  be  polluted  by  these 
dogs  of  Ishmael.  After  all  these  hundred  years  the 
Holy  Land  shall  again  be  hallowed  with  the  Cross; 
Antioch,  Aleppo,  Damascus,  Jerusalem  shall  again  be 
consecrated  to  the  Blessed  Trinity  and  the  Mother  of 
God.  We  will  push  on  to  Mesopotamia,  beyond  Eu- 
phrates, till  the  empire  of  Rome  has  no  frontier  on 
the  east  but  the  Tigris,  and  no  frontier  on  the  south 
but  the  dry  deserts  of  Arabia,  into  which  the  unholy 
race  of  Hagar  shall  be  driven  and  made  to  abide. 
The  empire  of  our  founder,  Constantine,  of  Justinian, 
and  of  Heraclius,  shall  be  restored  in  all  its  majesty 
and  power,  and  the  dogs  who  follow  the  False  Prophet 

14  199 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

shall  be  kennelled  again  with  the  jackals  of  the 
desert." 

Generals  and  secretaries  listened  in  silent  respect  to 
this  outburst  of  their  chief,  who  spoke  like  some  priest 
at  the  altar,  rather  than  as  the  leader  of  a  mighty  host 
arrayed  for  war. 

"We  are  all  eager  to  be  at  them!"  cried  John  Tzim- 
isces,  passionately.  "  Give  us  the  hour,  and  our  march- 
ing orders,  and  we  will  saddle  this  coming  dawn!" 

"In  good  time,  my  valiant  Lord  Joannes.  I  well 
know  your  noble  ardor  for  the  fight.  There  are  a 
thousand  things  that  a  commander  -  in  -  chief  has  to 
prepare,  and  a  few  of  these  are  still  wanting.  Our 
siege-train  is  not  yet  complete  and  we  have  at  least 
fifty  forts  to  capture;  the  remount  chargers  in  reserve 
are  not  quite  filled  up,  the  reserve  of  arms  is  nearly 
full,  the  transport  service  is  ready,  and  the  hospital- 
train,  but  the  reports  from  the  eastern  defiles  of  the 
Cilician  Clisuras  have  not  yet  all  come  in.  There  are 
still  seven  companies  of  vedettes  who  have  yet  to  com- 
plete the  intelligence  survey  of  the  distant  passes." 

"Will  it  be  three  days  more,  twice  three  days,  as 
many  weeks  yet?"  asked  Bourtzes,  in  his  blunt  way. 

"God  in  heaven  knows,  my  dear  general,"  said  the 
chief,  with  his  grim  smile.  "In  the  mean  time,  I  have 
copies  ready  of  the  Hand-book  of  Tactics,  which  I  have 
been  compiling  during  the  last  three  months.  Every 
commander  of  a  division  shall  have  it;  my  orders  are 
that  every  chief  officer  shall  thoroughly  understand 
the  rules  of  this  kind  of  warfare — to  which  there  are 
three  main  keys — rapidity  of  movement,  exact  knowl- 
edge of  all  the  facts,  foresight  of  every  detail." 

All  next  night  the  general  sat  in  his  tent,  with  none 


The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 

but  Basil  Digenes  and  his  chief  secretary.  He  had 
called  for  the  final  recension  of  his  book  on  Tactics, 
which  he  was  explaining  to  the  lord  warden  as  he  ran 
over  the  heads  of  the  twenty-five  chapters. 

'"Everything  lies  in  this  first  chapter  on  scouting 
and  the  distances  between  the  vedettes,'  "  said  the  gen- 
eral, reading;  "'in  a  very  broken  country  they  must  not 
be  more  than  three  or  four  Roman  miles  apart.  The 
scouts  may  have  to  be  away  from  the  main  army  fifteen 
days,  and  must  carry  provisions  for  that  time.  They 
must  explore  every  hill,  stream,  and  road  in  the 
district  they  survey,  never  be  stationary,  but  always 
on  the  move,  and  always  in  touch  with  the  force  they 
are  serving.  Then  take  care  they  master  that  third 
chapter  on  "Occupying  heights  that  flank  a  pass,"  and 
"  On  flank  attacks  on  an  enemy  discovered  to  be  on  the 
march."  Then  that  eleventh  chapter  will  be  of  the  ut- 
most importance  in  such  a  march  as  we  shall  make 
through  the  defiles  of  the  Taurus — "  How  to  survey  and 
occupy  in  force  the  points  that  can  command  a  defile 
which  is  to  be  forced."  Many  and  many  a  Roman 
army,  from  the  time  of  the  Caudine  Forks  down  to  that 
of  Gongyles  in  Crete,  and  poor  Pastilas  this  very  last 
year,  has  been  lost  by  neglecting  this  caution.' 

"Listen  to  this,  my  son,"  the  chief  continued,  read- 
ing from  his  own  book:  "  'This  war  is  one  of  cavalry. 
Victory  does  not  depend  on  numbers,  but  on  prudence, 
on  rapidity,  on  ingenuity,  so  that  a  stroke  may  be  de- 
livered when  and  where  it  is  least  expected  by  the 
enemy.  War  against  these  children  of  the  desert,  on 
their  own  light  horses,  and  with  camels  as  transports, 
has  wholly  changed  since  the  epoch  of  pitched  battles. 
If  you  are  swift  enough,  alert  enough,  keen  enough, 

201 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

if  you  are  well  served  by  your  scouts,  spies,  and  sig- 
nallers, you  may  defeat  a  battalion  with  a  mere  de- 
tachment, and  an  army  with  only  a  battalion.' 

' ' '  Then  attend  to  your  signal -service.  Pick  the  sharp- 
est eyes,  the  keenest  brains  in  your  force,  and  take 
care  that  the  chain  of  signals  is  never  broken.  The 
one  thing  essential  is  to  conceal  from  your  enemy  your 
own  movements  and  your  objective.  Every  advance 
must  be  covered  by  feints.  March  as  far  as  possible 
by  night,  and  choose  moonless  nights.' 

"'Then  as  to  night  attacks.  These  are  exceedingly 
dangerous,  unless  carried  out  with  fitting  conditions, 
which  are  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  ground  at- 
tacked, assaults  delivered  simultaneously  on  many 
sides  at  once,  trustworthy  guides,  and  intelligent 
officers.  The  assaults  must  converge  to  an  instant, 
they  must  be  invisible  till  they  strike,  and  they  must 
be  directed  by  a  single  mind.'  In  this  war  we  must 
constantly  resort  to  night  assaults,"  said  Nicephorus, 
as  he  handed  the  volume  to  the  lord  warden. 

"The  first  thought  of  a  general,  my  son,  is  to  have 
his  men  well  rationed,  honestly  paid,  well  clothed,  and 
well  mounted.  It  is  a  scandal  how  these  courtiers  and 
clerks  at  home  stint  the  soldier  of  his  food,  his  pay, 
and  his  rewards. 

"  You  may  wonder  that  I  think  it  needful  in  our  days 
of  glory  to  recite  at  such  pains  the  way  in  which  these 
accursed  infidels  are  to  be  defeated.  Ah,  who  can  say 
what  is  before  us  in  the  future?  Bardas  Caesar  and 
my  mother's  brother,  Constantine  Meleinos,  won  vic- 
tories by  these  tactics,  and  I  myself  have  seen  them 
successful  in  six  hundred  fights,  great  or  small.  If  you 
follow  these  precepts,  my  dear  young  warden,  you  will 


The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 

win  an  equal  success — remembering  always  this,  that 
it  is  not  thou  who  art  victor,  but  that  the  victory  is 
given  thee  by  Christ,  our  Saviour,  very  God  and  very 
man." 

The  general  now  sat  alone  in  his  tent  studying  the 
reports  and  rough  sketch-maps  sent  him  from  a  score 
of  advanced  posts.  His  secretary  brought  him  a  mis- 
sive just  received  by  a  relay  of  royal  posts  from  the 
Sacred  Palace. 

From  the  parakeimomenos  (lord  high  chamberlain) 
to  the  grand  domestic  (or  marshal)  of  the  army- 
corps  of  the  east,  Nicephorus,  the  Victorious,  and  so 
forth — after  compliments,  eulogies,  and  promises  in 
profusion  —  the  mighty  Bringas  proceeds  to  explain 
that  the  council  of  his  Majesty,  the  Basileus,  are  so 
anxious  that  nothing  should  imperil  the  life  and  glory 
of  the  general-in-chief ,  that  they  desire  him  to  remain 
in  reserve  with  an  army  in  Caesaria,  and  to  intrust  the 
advance  into  the  enemy's  territories  to  the  illustrious 
commander,  John  Tzimisces,  whose  failure  to  succeed 
would  not  so  fatally  endanger  the  safety  of  empire — 
and  more  excellent  reasons  for  keeping  Nicephorus  in 
the  background  and  idle. 

"So  ho!"  said  the  general  to  himself,  with  a  grim 
smile;  "he  would  pit  John  against  me,  and  throw  me 
into  the  shade!  Too  late,  my  honest  eunuch,  too  late! 
The  orders  to  march  at  dawn  have  gone  forth  this  very 
night.  But  is  Tzimisces  a  party  to  the  plot?  Never! 
he  is  too  noble  a  spirit.  I  would  trust  John  with  my 
life." 

Another  missive  now  came  in,  brought  by  a  private 
messenger.  It  was  from  Leo,  the  brother  of  Nicepho- 
rus, who  was  watching  his  interests  in  Constantinople. 

203 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"The  voice  of  all  Rome  is  loud  for  the  House  of 
Phocas,  and  the  name  of  the  victor  of  Crete  is  on  every 
tongue.  But  the  arch-eunuch  is  plotting  night  and 
day  against  you,  turning  now  to  the  exiled  prince, 
now  to  Tzimisces.  Our  autocrator  himself  is  nearer 
than  ever  to  his  God.  It  is  thought  he  will  keep  his 
Christmas  in  heaven,  and  they  do  say  that  art  is 
assisting  sin  and  disease  to  make  an  angel  of  him. 
Strike  —  and  strike  quickly,  and  be  careful  that  you 
celebrate  a  triumph  in  the  Hippodrome  within  three 
months.  Three  months  is  the  longest  period  that  it 
is  safe  for  you  to  be  absent!" 

"Yes,  in  three  months'  time  I  shall  be  in  the  Golden 
Horn — or  in  my  grave,"  said  Nicephorus,  and  he  flung 
himself  on  his  couch  with  a  few  prayers  as  he  kissed 
the  ikon  of  the  Mother  of  God.  As  he  raised  his  eyes 
he  saw  a  slip  of  parchment  that,  without  his  knowledge, 
had  been  hung  at  the  foot  of  the  image.  It  was  folded 
and  addressed:  "To  the  Hero  of  Rome  and  Defender 
of  Christ."  Within  were  these  words,  in  the  Armenian 
tongue:  "  She  who  loves  thee  warns  thee  to  win  a  glori- 
ous victory  over  the  Hagarene  and  then  to  hasten  back 
to  Rome.  The  Augusta  is  racked  with  anxiety  and 
foreboding.  In  three  months  she  will  be  a  widow. 
There  is  but  one  who  could  protect  her  and  console 
her." 

The  general  crushed  the  parchment  in  his  fierce  grip, 
and  then  thrust  it  into  his  breast.  He  tossed  on  his 
couch  for  hours,  with  a  storm  of  passions  chasing  each 
other  across  his  soul. 

Before  dawn  the  great  host  had  begun  its  advance. 
The  general,  in  the  centre  of  his  staff,  was  receiving 
and  despatching  mounted  couriers,  who  every  minute 

204 


The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 

came  and  went  to  and  fro.  Through  seven  different 
passes  of  the  Taurus,  mainly  through  that  known  as 
the  "Cilician  Gates,"  the  various  corps  debouched 
down  upon  the  Saracen  province  that  had  once  been 
the  Cilicia  of  Augustus  and  Trajan.  The  different 
armies  had  separate  objectives,  but  were  kept  in  close 
touch  with  one  another,  and  each  was  preceded  by  an 
outer  screen  of  light  cavalry,  which  pressed  on  in  front 
and  scoured  the  whole  country.  As  the  parallel  forces 
poured  down  like  a  deluge  on  the  rich  plains,  the 
miserable  people  fled  before  them  or  crowded  into  the 
forts;  the  Saracen  troops  of  all  arms  were  seized  with 
panic,  and  made  no  effort  to  stem  the  current.  Fort 
after  fort,  walled  towns,  castles,  and  camps  fell  rapidly 
into  the  hands  of  the  invading  Christians.  The  over- 
whelming numbers  that  Nicephorus  had  collected  cov- 
ered the  country  for  a  hundred  miles.  By  light  siege- 
train,  hurried  forward,  they  captured  fortresses  by 
escalade.  Tarsus,  Adana,  Mopseutia,  and  Seleucia 
were  taken  by  storm.  The  gallant  emir  of  Aleppo, 
Seif  Eddauleh,  of  the  dynasty  of  Hamdan,  the  hero  of 
the  Saracens  of  Asia  in  the  tenth  century,  whom  the 
Greeks  called  the  "Accursed  Chamdas,"  yielded  before 
the  avalanche.  He  ordered  his  men  to  retreat  inland 
towards  Syria  and  to  attempt  nothing  but  separate 
and  small  encounters  to  harrass  the  lines  of  communi- 
cation. The  host  poured  on,  the  Arab  historian  de- 
declares,  "like  hungry  wolves,"  ravaging  the  land, 
burning  villages,  and  destroying  all  crops  and  stores 
which  they  could  not  use.  Karamountis,  the  emir  of 
Tarsus,  attempted  a  pitched  battle,  but  was  utterly 
defeated  and  left  five  thousand  of  his  men  dead  upon 
the  field,  the  rest  being  prisoners  of  war.     All  the  cal- 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

dilations  of  the  Roman  general  were  fulfilled,  every 
order  had  been  carried  out  to  the  letter,  every  corps 
reached  the  point  at  which  it  was  directed  at  the  ap- 
pointed time.  The  whole  of  Cilicia  was  swept  as  by 
a  tornado,  and  within  twenty -two  days,  the  Arab 
historian,  Aboulfaradj,  relates  that  fifty-five  fortresses 
and  fortified  towns  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
Christians.  Enormous  booty  and  tens  of  thousands 
of  prisoners  were  taken,  and  after  three  centuries  the 
rich  and  broad  land,  watered  by  the  Cydnus  and  the 
Pyramus,  and  lying  between  the  range  of  Taurus  and 
the  Mediterranean  Sea,  passed  again  into  the  realm  of 
Christ  and  of  Rome. 

There  was  a  halt  to  concentrate  the  forces,  collect 
the  booty,  and  to  reinforce  or  refresh  the  army  after 
its  tremendous  rush,  and  secret  despatches  had  again 
reached  the  commander.  An  unsigned  missive  in  the 
Armenian  tongue  warned  him  again  that  the  Augustus 
was  in  delirium,  at  the  verge  of  death,  that  the  Augusta 
commanded  his  return  to  save  the  empire  and  herself 
from  ruin.  A  later  missive  from  his  brother  Leo 
assured  him  that  the  Basileus  had  revived  and  might 
live  yet  some  months.  "Go  on  and  conquer!  Drive 
the  accursed  blasphemer,  Chamdas,  from  his  last  lair 
in  Syria.     Then  return  and  triumph!" 

Nicephorus  resumed  his  onward  march  in  earnest. 
He  had  now  received  reinforcements  of  twenty  thou- 
sand fresh  cavalry,  bringing  up  his  effective  force  to 
over  two  hundred  thousand  troops,  including  thirty 
thousand  engineers  and  sappers,  with  ample  engines 
of  siege  and  storm.  As  the  vast  range  of  Taurus  had 
lain  between  the  empire  and  the  Saracen  in  Cilicia,  so 
now  the  range  of  the  Amanus  divided  it  from  the  prov- 

206 


The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 

inces  of  Syria,  Damascus,  and  Aleppo.  Anazarba,  Sis, 
and  other  strong  forts  were  swept  away,  their  de- 
fenders ruthlessly  slaughtered,  and  their  homes  sacked, 
but  nothing  could  arrest  the  invaders  till  they  poured 
over  the  passes  of  Amanus  down  into  the  valley  of 
the  Orontes  and  reached  the  great  plains  which  stretch 
away  from  the  "Gates  of  Syria"  to  the  Euphrates. 
Once  across  the  defiles  of  the  Amanus  range,  Niceph- 
orus  concentrated  his  whole  force  for  a  plunge  upon 
Aleppo,  the  seat  and  capital  of  "the  accursed  Cham- 
das." 

Aleppo,  which  the  Greeks  called  Chalepe  and  the 
Saracens  called  Haleb,  was  then  the  most  splendid  and 
the  richest  city  of  Asia,  having  some  quarter  of  a  mill- 
ion of  inhabitants,  and  was  the  centre  of  the  trade 
between  East  and  West.  Its  magnificent  palaces,  in 
the  midst  of  gardens  teeming  with  all  the  flowers  and 
shrubs  of  the  Asiatic  plains,  its  immense  circuit  of 
walls,  towers,  domes,  and  minarets,  were  crowned  by 
the  tremendous  fortress  on  the  almost  precipitous 
acropolis  that  rose  above  the  plain  in  which  the  city 
stood.  At  a  glorious  sunrise,  early  in  December,  Ni- 
cephorus  gathered  his  principal  officers  around  him  on 
an  eminence  from  whence  in  the  distance  the  white 
towers  of  Aleppo  could  be  clearly  seen.  "There  lies 
the  lair  of  the  blaspheming  Hagarene  who  has  wrought 
such  havoc  upon  the  people  of  Christ  and  the  realm  of 
Rome !  Within  those  proud  walls  are  the  savage  horse- 
men who  have  burned  a  thousand  homes  and  have 
slaughtered  ten  thousand  of  our  brothers!  Ay,  and 
within  those  gay  and  lordly  palaces,  with  their  smiling 
groves  and  terraces,  there  are  ten  thousand  of  our 
sisters,  daughters,  and  boys  who  have  been  ravished 

207 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

from  Christian  hearts  and  turned  from  Christ  to  defile 
themselves  with  the  False  Prophet,  his  lies  and  his 
fornications!  By  God  and  His  mercy,  we  will  keep 
Christmas  like  Christians,  within  the  very  walls  and 
mosques  where  He  has  been  blasphemed  these  long 
three  hundred  years!" 

The  city  was  now  entirely  invested.  All  the  efforts 
of  the  emirs  to  relieve  it  were  cut  off  with  immense 
losses,  and  almost  on  the  eve  of  Christmas  Day  the 
order  was  given  for  a  combined  assault.  The  walls 
were  carried  in  a  dozen  places  at  once,  the  gallant 
Chamdas  was  driven  back  step  by  step  into  the  citadel 
on  the  heights,  and  by  nightfall  the  splendid  city  of 
Aleppo  was  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  Romans.  The 
booty  was  enormous,  for  the  rush  of  Nicephorus  upon 
the  capital  had  been  so  sudden  that  nothing  had  been 
removed.  Three  hundred  and  ninety  thousand  gold 
pieces  were  found  in  the  Saracen  treasury;  thousands 
of  horses,  mules,  and  camels  in  the  barracks.  Gold 
plate,  exquisite  damascened  work,  jewelled  arms,  bro- 
cades, embroideries,  ivories,  carpets,  vases,  robes,  and 
painted  manuscripts  were  tossed  about  in  wild  con- 
fusion. For  days  the  scene  of  plunder,  bloodshed,  and 
destruction  raged.  The  superb  palace  of  the  emir, 
filled  with  precious  things,  was  sacked,  and  then  con- 
sumed with  fire,  and  everything  which  the  victorious 
troops  could  neither  use  nor  transport  was  burned  or 
destroyed.  The  ramparts  of  the  great  city  were  lev- 
elled, the  mosques  were  ruined,  and  the  minarets 
thrown  down  in  the  dust. 

The  general,  with  fierce  exultation,  surveyed  the 
annihilation  of  the  terrible  enemy  who  had  made  the 
Roman  empire   reel  to  its   foundations,  and  he    saw 

208 


The  Conquest  of  Aleppo 

that  the  frontiers  of  Rome  were  destined  to  extend 
again  to  the  Euphrates.  Thereupon  he  ordered  a  sol- 
emn Te  Deum  to  be  chanted  in  presence  of  a  great 
muster  of  chiefs  and  chosen  detachments  of  his  army. 
Before  the  crucifix,  which  was  raised  beside  the  central 
altar,  the  fierce  soldier  of  the  Cross  thrice  prostrated 
himself  in  the  dust,  and  offered  up  a  silent  prayer  of 
thanksgiving;  and  then  the  psalm  of  praise  was  chanted 
forth  by  ten  thousand  voices  in  unison. 

As  Nicephorus  returned  to  his  headquarters  he  found 
a  missive  to  him  from  Constantinople.  It  was  un- 
signed, and  in  the  Armenian  language  and  said  that  the 
throne  of  Constantine  and  Basil  would  be  vacant  before 
the  message  could  reach  its  destination. 


XV 
Empress  and  Chamberlain 

IT  was  a  gloomy  day  in  March,  963,  when  an  un- 
wonted stir  of  officials,  chamberlains,  and  equerries 
was  seen  to  throng  the  gates,  corridors,  and  chambers 
of  the  Sacred  Palace.  The  empress,  in  her  private 
apartments,  lay  pale  and  feeble  on  her  couch,  after  the 
very  recent  birth  of  her  fourth  child,  Anna,  destined 
one  day  to  be  the  wife  of  Vladimir,  prince  of  the  Rus- 
sians. The  roses  on  Theophano's  cheek  were  now 
faded  to  a  marble  hue,  and,  as  her  lovely  head  lay  in 
sleep,  she  looked  like  one  of  the  dying  daughters  of 
Niobe  as  carved  by  the  hand  of  Praxiteles.  But  the 
noise  of  urgent  messengers  at  the  door  roused  her  from 
her  slumber,  and  in  her  soft  voice,  which  retained  its 
imperious  tone  with  all  its  exquisite  modulation,  she 
bade  them  tell  her  what  was  being  reported.  Her  deep 
eyes  seemed  even  more  lustrous  and  penetrating  than 
ever,  as  they  shone  from  out  the  unwonted  pallor  of 
her  face.  "Tell  me,  Glaucopis,  what  they  say,"  she 
murmured. 

"Most  august  lady,"  said  the  nurse,  "the  physicians 
have  strictly  forbidden  us  to  disturb  your  Majesty  with 
any  news." 

"Romanus  is  dead?"  she  gasped  out  with  a  fierce 


Empress  and   Chamberlain 

gleam  in  her  eyes  as  she  raised  herself  on  her  arm  from 
the  pillow;  "when — how — where  is  his  body?" 

"Madam,  the  emperor  is  being  brought  into  the 
sacred' chamber — not  dead,  but  fainting,  unconscious, 
and,  they  say,  dying.  He  insisted,  in  spite  of  all  the 
warnings  of  his  physicians,  on  going  out  to  hunt  the 
boar  last  night  in  the  forest,  and  he  was  seized  with  a 
fainting-fit  early  this  morning.  We  can  hear  the 
bearers  of  his  litter  even  now  in  the  corridor." 

"And  has  my  messenger  returned  from  Csesaria?" 
asked  the  Augusta,  eagerly,  catching  her  breath  with 
excitement. 

A  small,  sealed  slip  of  parchment  was  handed  to  the 
empress.  She  tore  open  the  scrip,  and  a  fierce  gleam 
shot  from  her  eyes  as  she  read  the  Armenian  words 
"  I  come." 

She  raised  herself  on  her  couch  with  a  strange  force 
of  will,  and  had  herself  supported  between  two  black 
eunuchs  of  the  chamber  and  carried  into  the  sacred 
koiton,  where  at  that  very  moment  they  were  bearing 
to  his  death-bed  the  still  unconscious  form  of  the  Basil- 
eus.  The  gaunt  limbs  of  the  once  stalwart  Romanus 
were  a  sight  hardly  so  pitiful  as  his  emaciated  and 
bloodless  countenance,  now  plainly  stamped  with  the 
hue  of  death.  As  the  physicians  and  chamberlains 
carefully  stripped  off  the  rough  accoutrements  of  the 
chase,  and  laid  him  gently  in  his  silken  robe  on  the 
bed,  his  wife  gazed  intently  upon  him,  with  a  look  of 
penetration  and  anxiety  rather  than  of  sorrow  or  of 
love.  Was  he  dead?  Was  he  dying?  What  space  of 
time  could  she  count  as  her  own?  To  whom  could  she 
turn  for  help? 

"Madam,"  whispered  the  chief  physician,  "he  still 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

lives.  His  marvellous  strength  of  constitution,  and 
strict  care,  may  even  yet  save  him  for  a  short  space. 
The  one  chance  of  life  is  perfect  rest,  absolute  silence. 
The  slightest  exertion,  the  smallest  excitement,  will 
be  instantly  fatal.  He  asks  for  a  draught  of  strong 
Samian  wine,  but  we  dare  not  give  it;  it  will  be  cer- 
tain death.  Let  us  implore  your  Majesty  to  leave  him 
to  us,  to  spare  him  the  shock  of  an  interview.  It 
would  be  his  death." 

Theophano  did  not  move  nor  answer;  she  gazed  in- 
tently into  the  face  of  the  dying  king.  At  last  his 
eyes  opened  and  the  flicker  of  a  feeble  smile  played 
round  his  drawn  lips.     She  bent  down  and  kissed  them. 

"Anastasia,"  he  murmured,  "forgive  me,  pardon  all 
my  wrong.  I  have  always  loved  you  —  ever  since  I 
went  mad  for  your  sake  in  the  hermit's  chapel  of  St. 
Demetrius  in  the  Asian  forest,  and  for  love  of  you  risked 
the  golden  throne  which  I  am  now  leaving  to  you. 
May  you  be  happy  in  it,  my  early  love,  my  only  love, 
and  guard  our  children  till  they  can  fill  it  better  than 
I  have  done!" 

"Are  you  leaving  it  to  me,  indeed?"  asked  the  em- 
press, eagerly;  "have  you  sealed  such  a  will?  Is  any 
testament  signed?" 

"It  shall  be,  if  you  wish  it,"  murmured  the  dying 
man;  "send  for  my  secretaries  and  the  keeper  of  the 
archives." 

Here  the  physician  drew  the  empress  aside  and  ear- 
nestly whispered  in  her  ear:  "It  would  be  certain  death 
for  him  to  make  such  an  effort.  His  one  chance  of  life 
is  absolute  rest." 

"It  is  the  will  of  his  Majesty,"  said  Theophano,  im- 
periously, "that  all  present  should  withdraw,  all — save 


Empress  and  Chamberlain 

this  scribe,"  she  added,  turning  to  a  secret  agent  of  her 
own.  "Close  and  secure  these  doors  in  the  name  of 
your  sovereign  lord!"  she  called  aloud  to  the  ushers 
and  guards  of  the  sacred  koiton. 

"My  will  is  that  my  beloved  wife,  the  empress,  be 
regent  of  this  empire  during  the  minority  of  my  sons, 
the  Basileis,  Basil  and  Constantine,"  murmured,  or, 
rather,  gasped  the  dying  man,  almost  mechanically  re- 
peating the  words  that  Theophano  dictated  aloud  to 
him,  or  nodding  a  feeble  assent,  while  the  scribe  copied 
them  down  in  official  form. 

A  loud  altercation  was  now  heard  at  the  door  of  the 
chamber,  and  a  terrified  chamberlain  announced  that 
the  great  parakeimomenos  himself,  the  eunuch  Brin- 
gas,  insisted  on  his  right  to  enter  the  chamber  by  virtue 
of  his  office — that  of  the  imperial  "Bedfellow." 

"It  is  the  will  of  his  Majesty  that  he  withdraw  and 
wait  in  the  anteroom,"  hissed  the  empress.  "Guards, 
do  your  duty,  in  the  name  of  your  sovereign!"  and 
Bringas  was  forcibly  thrust  back  from  the  chamber. 

"Bringas  —  will  be  —  your  counsellor  —  your  minis- 
ter," gasped  the  dying  king,  as  he  heard  the  name  of 
his  terrible  master. 

"And  shall  not  the  glorious  lord  general  of  the 
east  be  confirmed  in  his  office?"  whispered  Theophano, 
with  the  eagerness  of  frenzy.  But  the  strain  of  this 
interview  had  already  overcome  the  flickering  strength 
of  the  dying  man,  who  fell  back  in  another  fainting-fit 
that  almost  seemed  death. 

Then  Theophano  bade  the  scribe  fetch  from  her  own 
chamber  a  flagon  of  strong  cordial  that  stood  beside 
her  bed.  She  moistened  the  lips  of  her  dying  lord, 
and  as  he  sipped  a  few  spoonfuls  of  the  drink  a  last 

213 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

spurt  of  life  came  back  to  him.  He  opened  his  eyes, 
and  even  raised  his  head,  hoarsely  calling  for  the  cup. 
A  mouthful  seemed  to  give  him  new  strength.  "  Since 
you  desire  it,  my  beloved,"  he  gasped,  "I  confirm  the 
lord  domestic  of  the  east  in  his  supreme  command. 
To  Nicephorus  I  leave  this  throne,  my  children,  my 
wife.  He  alone  is  worthy  to  possess  them.  They  are 
his.  May  he  keep  them."  He  then  grasped  the  flagon 
nervously,  and  with  hungry  eyes  besought  his  wife  to 
give  it  him — besought  with  his  eyes,  for  he  was  now 
speechless. 

Theophano  knelt  down  beside  the  low  couch,  and, 
folding  her  arms  round  her  half -conscious  lord,  she 
raised  him  on  his  pillows.  Then  she  held  the  flagon 
to  his  lips  and  gave  it  him  to  drink.  He  sucked  in  the 
strong  wine  like  a  beast  that  has  been  dying  of  thirst, 
until  the  action  of  swallowing  had  ceased  to  be  possible. 
The  last  dregs  of  the  cup  oozed  out  of  the  corners  of 
his  mouth  and  poured  over  his  bare  throat.  He  lay 
back — dead. 

Theophano  gazed  on  him  with  a  look  of  triumph. 
Then  she  seized  the  parchment  whereon  the  scribe  had 
written  down  the  last  will  of  the  emperor.  She  took 
up  the  pen  and  placed  it  in  the  still  soft  hand  of  the 
dead  man;  holding  his  hand  in  her  own,  she  made  the 
pen  rudely  inscribe  his  name — 

Roman os,  Basilcus  Romaion. 

For  a  brief  space  she  stood  there  over  the  dead  body 
of  her  husband,  herself  pale  and  faint  with  the  effort, 
looking  like  a  marble  statue  of  the  angel  of  death, 
as  she  pondered  what  should  be  her  next  act,  for  she 
well  knew  how  tremendous  a  crisis  was  at  hand. 

214 


Empress  and   Chamberlain 

Her  meditations  were  broken  by  loud  and  angry 
altercations  at  the  door,  and  soon  there  burst  into 
the  chamber  the  gigantic  form  of  the  parakeimomenos. 
The  eunuch  Bringas  had  now  placed  himself  at  the 
head  of  the  chief  officials  and  members  of  the  council 
of  state.  He  brought  Michael,  the  chancellor  of  the 
exchequer;  Symeon,  the  chief  secretary;  Sisinnios, 
the  head  of  the  senate;  magistroi,  patricians,  protos- 
pathaires,  basilikoi,  with  a  strong  force  of  ushers  and 
palace  guards.  The  physicians  proved  the  death  of  the 
emperor,  and  closed  his  eyes.  Theophano,  at  the  first 
sound  of  the  interruption,  had  on  her  part  summoned 
from  her  private  apartments  her  own  creatures,  secre- 
taries, chamberlains,  and  guards.  The  two  factions  now 
confronted  each  other,  ranged  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
imperial  couch,  whereon  lay  the  yet  untended  corpse 
of  the  Basileus,  Bringas  at  the  head  of  the  council  of 
state  on  the  one  side,  Theophano  on  the  other  side, 
holding  in  her  hands  the  last  testament  of  the  dead 
king. 

"As  parakeimomenos,  grand  chamberlain  of  his  late 
Majesty,  and  president  of  the  council  of  state,  it  is 
my  right  to  order  the  ceremony  for  the  burial  of  our 
late  lord  Romanus,  and,  furthermore,  to  provide  for 
the  urgent  needs  of  this  empire  of  Rome  until  the  ac- 
cession of  our  young  Basileus,"  said  Bringas,  in  a  voice 
of  proud  command.  "  You,  madam,  for  whom  our  late 
revered  sovereign  has  made  no  written  provision,  as 
I  am  authorized  to  declare,  may  withdraw  to  the  apart- 
ments reserved  for  the  secluded  widowhood  of  the  relict 
of  an  autocrat  of  the  Romans." 

With  a  will  as  strong  and  a  voice  as  clear,  Theo- 
phano replied:  "Here  I,  as  Regent  of  the  empire  by 
15  215 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  last  will  of  my  late  beloved  lord  and  emperor, 
summon  the  council  to  receive  my  commands.  There 
is  no  great  chamberlain  of  any  dead  man.  The  death 
of  an  emperor  dissolves  his  council  of  state.  Here  is 
the  testament  of  my  lord  Romanus,  signed  by  his  own 
hand,  as  these  secretaries  and  lawyers  who  were  present 
at  the  execution  of  it  will  testify  on  the  sacred  Gospels 
and  the  ikon  of  the  Mother  of  God."  And  with  a  look 
of  triumph  and  defiance  Theophano  held  aloft  the 
scroll,  and  in  a  firm  voice  read  it  aloud  to  the  amazed 
and  hesitating  throng. 

"A  forged  document!"  shouted  Bringas.  "I  know 
that  no  such  testament  exists.  Its  authenticity  must 
be  proved  by  something  more  than  Gospels  and  ikons. 
Let  us  have  this  document,  madam,  and  it  shall  be 
duly  examined  by  the  judges  of  the  law." 

The  eunuch  and  his  party  advanced  to  wrest  the 
parchment  from  the  empress  by  force,  when  a  new 
interruption  arose,  and  another  large  party  entered  the 
chamber.  It  was  the  patriarch  Polyeuctus,  bearing 
the  miracle-working  crucifix  from  the  high  altar  of  the 
Holy  Wisdom,  with  his  canons  and  acolytes  carrying 
the  host.  He  had  hastened  to  the  palace  on  the  news 
of  the  agony  of  the  emperor,  and  was  profoundly 
shocked  to  find  that  he  had  arrived  too  late  to  ad- 
minister the  last  rites.  In  words  of  passionate  grief 
the  venerable  prelate  deplored  the  terrible  calamity 
which  had  fallen  on  the  royal  house  by  the  sudden 
death  of  the  Basileus,  unhouselled,  unanealed,  in  his 
sins.  He  bitterly  reproached  both  factions,  who  stood 
beside  the  untended  corpse  of  their  sovereign,  contend- 
ing for  mastery.  He  listened  to  the  claim  of  Bringas, 
he  inspected  the  testament  which  Theophano  still  held 

216 


Empress  and  Chamberlain 

in  her  clutch,  and  he  suffered  two  scribes  to  swear  on 
the  ikon  that  they  had  heard  the  emperor  dictate  the 
words  and  had  seen  him  sign  it  with  his  own  hand. 

"My  children,  my  daughter,  princes,  senators,  and 
officers  of  Rome,"  said  the  venerable  patriarch,  "it 
will  bring  down  on  us  and  on  this  empire  the  judg- 
ment of  God  and  His  Son,  that  we  should  strive  for 
power  among  ourselves,  while  the  unanointed  body 
of  our  late  lord  lies  here  in  its  abandonment.  Our 
first  duty  is  to  provide  for  the  funeral  rites.  As  to  the 
succession  to  this  throne,  the  regency  of  the  empire,  it 
is  the  appointed  task  of  the  senate  and  patricians  to 
ordain  these  in  due  course  of  law  and  custom.  The 
senate  has  been  convoked  and  is  now  about  to  meet. 
Thither  let  those  who  have  the  right  to  sit  in  it  repair. 
As  I  hurried  past  the  Augusteon  hither,  I  saw  the 
streets  filled  with  excited  crowds  of  citizens.  I  would 
warn  you  both,  who  stand  here  in  contention  such  as 
this  city  will  not  witness  with  any  patience,  that  we 
heard  no  shouts  of  '  Long  live  the  venerated  Augusta!' 
nor  of  'Long  live  the  lord  great  chamberlain!'  The 
only  name  that  now  echoes  through  our  city,  where 
men  congregate  and  speak,  is  the  name  of  Nicephorus 
Phocas,  the  ever  -  victorious  general  of  the  eastern 
armies." 

The  keen  intellects  of  Theophano  and  of  Bringas  at 
once  perceived  all  the  risks  of  a  popular  revolution  in 
the  midst  of  a  disputed  succession;  and  both  factions 
admitted  the  force  of  tne  patriarch's  appeal,  as  well 
as  the  imminent  peril  to  the  state  and  to  their  own 
lives,  if  the  government  remained  unsettled  for  an- 
other hour.  At  the  meeting  of  the  senate,  which  im- 
mediately followed,  the  eloquence  and  authority  of  the 

217 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

patriarch  succeeded  in  securing  a  settlement  which 
was  in  the  nature  of  a  compromise.  Theophano  was 
duly  installed  as  regent  during  the  minority  of  her 
two  sons,  but  she  was  forced  to  accept  the  mighty 
eunuch  and  his  confederates,  the  late  ministers,  and 
to  reappoint  them  to  the  offices  they  held.  Bringas 
saw  himself  thus  invested  with  practical  mastery  of 
the  state,  while  the  patriarch  and  the  majority  of  the 
senate  supported  the  demand  of  the  regent,  that 
Nicephorus  should  be  retained  in  supreme  command 
as  grand  marshal  of  the  east. 

The  duel  between  Theophano  and  Bringas  was  only 
withdrawn  from  public  view;  it  was  carried  on  as 
fiercely  as  ever.  The  Regent  despatched  messenger 
after  messenger  to  the  general  to  hasten  his  return  to 
the  capital.  The  eunuch,  on  his  side,  was  exerting 
all  his  arts  to  keep  the  great  soldier  on  the  frontier 
and  secretly  to  put  him  away.  At  the  next  meeting 
of  the  council,  which  the  woman  was  unable  to  attend, 
prostrated  as  she  was  by  the  desperate  efforts  she  had 
made  in  her  delicate  condition,  the  wily  Bringas  thus 
spoke : 

"Lords  of  the  council  and  ministers  of  state,  our 
first  duty  after  providing  for  the  funeral  of  our  late 
sovereign,  the  august  autocrat  now  with  God,  will  be 
to  secure  the  throne  of  his  infant  children,  the  Basileis, 
to  whom  the  succession  falls  of  right  and  by  his  own 
device.  Their  rights  are  menaced  by  many  enemies, 
both  without  and  within  the  realm,  perhaps  not  least 
by  the  disordered  ambition  of  one  who  ought  to  be 
their  most  disinterested  friend.  But  of  all  the  dis- 
ordered ambitions  by  which  this  empire  is  beset,  the 
danger  most  urgent  and  imminent  is  to  be  found  in 

218 


Empress  and  Chamberlain 

the  far  east.  A  fortunate  soldier,  intoxicated  with  the 
favor  of  his  emperor  and  —  may  we  not  say?  —  the 
smiles  of  his  empress,  has  seduced  the  giddy  populace 
of  this  city  to  welcome  him  as  their  idol  and  prepare 
to  raise  him  to  the  very  purple  itself.  I  hold  the  evi- 
dence of  this  conspiracy  to  bring  about  a  revolution 
and  proclaim  him  as  Basileus.  The  government,  the 
dynasty  itself,  stands  on  the  edge  of  an  abyss.  His 
triumph  would  mean  confusion  in  this  city,  exile,  con- 
fiscation— death,  no  doubt — for  each  of  us.  My  lords, 
I  propose  a  peremptory  order  to  Nicephorus  Phocas 
to  prosecute  the  war  towards  the  east,  and  not  to  come 
west  of  the  Anatolian  theme  on  pain  of  attainder  and 
death." 

"If  this  evidence  is  made  public,"  said  Michael,  "the 
people  will  soon  forsake  their  favorite  and  justify  the 
precautions  we  take."  And  the  councillors  seemed 
ready  to  accept  the  proposal. 

The  wily  eunuch  saw  his  opportunity,  and  sought 
to  push  it  home.  "Indeed,  my  lords,"  he  said,  with 
an  insinuating  tone,  "it  would  be  wiser  perhaps  if  we 
went  further  and  secretly  named  some  illustrious  sol- 
dier with  authority  to  supersede  and  arrest  so  dan- 
gerous a  man.  The  late  reigns  of  our  autocrats 
Constantine  Born-in-the-Purple,  and  his  son,  Romanus, 
have  introduced  a  dangerous  laxity  towards  treason. 
Time  was  when  a  popular  general,  suspected  of  re- 
bellion, was  seized  and  deprived  of  his  eyesight. 
Methinks  we  should  all  feel  our  heads  safer  on  our 
shoulders  if  the  hero  of  the  hour  were  treated  as  was 
Belisarius  when  he  was  degraded  by  the  great  Jus- 
tinian, or  as  another  Phocas  who  was  justly  put  to 
death  by  our  ancestors." 

219 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

But  here  the  eunuch  overshot  his  mark.  The  arch- 
priest  of  St.  George  of  the  Stoudion  vehemently  pro- 
tested against  such  language  as  applied  to  the  victo- 
rious chief  who  had  laid  Islam  low;  and  the  rest  of  the 
council  dreaded  the  fury  of  the  people  if  the  hero  were 
sacrificed  by  his  rivals.  The  council  parted ;  nor 
could  Bringas  obtain  from  it  anything  more  than 
a  peremptory  order  to  Nicephorus  to  prosecute  the 
war  to  the  borders  as  far  as  the  Tigris  and  the  Eu- 
phrates. 

The  astute  minister  was  not  easily  beaten  from  his 
purpose,  knowing,  as  he  did,  that  his  hold  on  power, 
and  perhaps  his  liberty  and  even  his  life,  depended 
on  the  issue.  Profiting  by  the  enforced  absence  of 
the  regent,  whose  exertions  had  brought  on  a  danger- 
ous collapse,  he  inveighed  at  every  council,  in  public 
and  in  private,  against  the  ambitious  schemes  of  the 
great  commander  of  the  east,  and  he  opened  secret 
negotiations  with  officers  on  the  general's  own  staff. 
These  intrigues  were  countermined  and  reported  to 
Nicephorus  by  agents  of  Theophano,  who  spied  out  all 
the  machinations  of  the  eunuch.  He  and  his  par- 
tisans still  believed  the  general  to  be  preparing  for  a 
fresh  advance  into  Syria ;  they  were  sitting  in  council 
in  the  privy  chamber  of  the  cenourgion  and  con- 
sidering a  new  scheme  to  isolate  Nicephorus  from  his 
friends,  when  loud  shouts  were  heard  in  the  streets 
and  squares,  and  even  from  the  palace  itself  could  be 
seen  a  crowd  of  small  craft  and  boats  under  the  very 
walls  of  the  Boucoleon  Port.  A  chamberlain  burst  into 
the  council -hall  with  the  tremendous  news  that  Ni- 
cephorus himself  was  in  the  act  of  landing  from  the 
Asiatic  shore  and  was  actually  making  his  way  to  the 


Empress  and  Chamberlain 

palace    by   the    new   basilica   built    by   the    Emperor 
Basil  I. 

"Our  agents  have  played  us  false,  then,"  stammered 
Bringas,  "in  keeping  his  journey  secret.  But  he  can- 
not have  brought  his  army,  or  even  a  division  of  it, 
without  our  knowledge." 

"My  lord,"  said  the  chamberlain,  "we  have  cer- 
tain intelligence  that  he  has  hurried  hither  by  forced 
posts — alone,  or  with  only  a  few  of  his  personal  fol- 
lowers." 

"The  Lord  has  delivered  him  into  our  hands!" 
shouted  Bringas  in  triumph;  "we  will  have  him  seized 
as  a  traitor  and  a  rebel  before  he  can  rouse  the  city  or 
gather  an  armed  force.  Put  out  his  eyes,  and  he  will 
give  no  more  trouble!"  And  the  swarthy  countenance 
of  the  eunuch  glowed  with  a  fierce  gleam,  as  a  beast 
of  prey  that  has  seized  his  victim.  The  roar  of  the 
populace  outside  grew  louder  and  nearer,  minute  by 
minute,  and  more  than  one  councillor  shrank  from 
signing  the  order  which  Bringas  had  already  got  pre- 
pared for  the  executioners  whose  duty  it  was  to  blind 
prisoners  with  red-hot  needles. 

Suddenly  the  door  of  the  hall  was  thrown  open,  and 
Nicephorus  Phocas,  in  the  military  uniform  of  his  ser- 
vice, burst  in  upon  the  council,  attended  only  by  his 
faithful  Digenes  and  three  or  four  other  officers. 

"In  the  name  of  our  sovereigns,  the  Basileis,  I  order 
the  arrest  of  this  traitor  and  rebel!  He  is  conspiring 
against  their  throne,  and  is  defying  the  command  of 
the  state  to  remain  on  the  Asian  frontier.  Guards, 
seize  that  man  and  bind  him  fast !  I  answer  as  lawful 
authority  for  this  order!"  said  Bringas,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder. 

221 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"I  am  no  traitor  nor  rebel!"  said  Nieephorus, 
proudly,  with  slow  and  measured  utterance.  "I  come 
here  as  magistros  and  grand  domestic  of  the  eastern 
armies  to  swear  allegiance  to  our  young  Basileis,  and 
to  their  mother,  the  lawful  regent  by  the  will  of  our 
late  emperor.  I  come  to  claim  my  right  to  a  public 
triumph  for  my  victorious  campaigns  in  Syria  against 
the  infidel,  and  I  come  to  claim  my  right,  by  the  will 
of  our  late  lord,  to  be  invested  as  general-in-chief  of 
the  armies  of  the  east." 

"The  pretexts  of  a  traitor!"  cried  Bringas,  fiercely. 
"Guards,  do  your  duty  and  seize  this  rebel!" 

Nieephorus  stood  almost  alone  in  the  midst  of  a 
hostile  council  of  his  enemies,  supported  by  ministers 
of  the  state  and  by  a  strong  armed  force.  Fearless  as 
he  was,  the  general  now  felt  that  his  precipitate  act 
had  driven  him  into  a  veritable  den  of  wild  beasts 
thirsting  for  his  blood. 

Again  the  door  opened,  this  time  on  the  side  of  the 
empress's  apartments,  and  Theophano  appeared,  pale 
as  death,  and  hardly  able  to  stand,  with  a  proud  gleam 
in  her  royal  eyes.  She  was  borne  along  by  cham- 
berlains, and  attended  by  her  own  officials,  and  by 
those  members  of  the  council  of  state  on  whom  she 
could  count.  She  calmly  moved  towards  the  imperial 
throne  and  took  her  seat  as  president — empress  and 
regent  by  undisputed  right. 

"My  lords,"  she  said,  with  dignity,  "the  general  of 
the  eastern  armies  is  here  by  our  imperial  summons, 
to  take  the  oath  of  fealty  to  myself  as  regent  and  to 
my  sons,  the  Basileis,  to  be  duly  invested  in  the  great 
command  which  my  late  lord  committed  to  him,  and 
to  present  to  the  people,  as  of  old,  the  triumph  in  the 


Empress  and  Chamberlain 

Hippodrome  for  the  victories  by  which  he  has  justified 
his  title  to  that  high  office." 

"Surely,  madam,"  the  eunuch  broke  in,  "the  tri- 
umph should  be  adjourned  until  the  campaign  of  the 
east  is  concluded.  The  accursed  Chamdas  is  still  un- 
broken. He  yet  holds  his  inner  fortress  of  Aleppo, 
and  it  is  to  be  seen  if  he  will  not  be  soon  as  formidable 
as  ever." 

"My  lord  great  chamberlain  and  lords  of  the  coun- 
cil," replied  the  regent,  "the  victories  that  the  mar- 
shal of  the  east  has  won  are  the  most  glorious  of 
which  Rome  can  boast  since  the  ages  of  our  ancestors, 
Heraclius  or  Justinian,  of  pious  and  immortal  memory. 
Crete  has  been  restored  to  our  empire  after  lying  for 
a  hundred  and  fifty  years  under  the  iron  heel  of  the 
infidel.  The  spoil,  the  wealth,  the  stores  that  are 
the  prize  of  war  exceed  anything  ever  yet  seen  in 
New  Rome.  The  boundaries  of  the  empire  have  been 
moved  again  east  to  the  rivers  of  Mesopotamia.  No 
captain  since  Belisarius  has  ever  won  such  renown, 
and,  let  me  remind  you,  such  popular  favor  and  trust. 
We  must  decree  him  the  triumph  that  is  his  of  right; 
for  let  me  warn  you  that  to  refuse  it,  while  the  city  is 
wild  with  excitement  and  our  bravest  troops  are  mak- 
ing their  cantonments  resound  with  shouts  for  their 
' ever- victorious  commander,'  would  be  to  imperil  the 
security  of  our  state,  to  shake  the  dynasty  to  its  foun- 
dations, and,  indeed,  to  risk  the  very  lives  of  those  who 
are  known  to  be  his  public  enemies."  And  she  turned 
with  a  dangerous  flash  in  her  eyes  upon  the  eunuch. 
"And  for  the  loyalty  of  the  lord  general,  my  lords," 
she  added,  "I  myself,  Augusta  and  regent,  am  ready 
to  answer." 

223 


Theophano:  The   Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Here  the  roar  of  the  vast  crowds  around  the  palace, 
and  shouts  borne  over  sea  and  land,  of  our  "Ever- 
victorious  Nicephorus  Phocas!"  joined  to  the  powerful 
and  indeed  unanswerable  appeal  of  the  empress,  made 
the  council  waver,  and  drove  dismay  into  the  soul  of 
Bringas.  He  dared  no  longer  to  resist  openly,  and 
made  politic  excuses  while  he  signed  the  orders  for  the 
installation  of  the  chief  as  generalissimo  and  for  his 
immediate  celebration  of  the  triumph. 

"The  council  has  risen,"  said  Theophano,  in  her 
grandest  tone,  "and  the  ceremony  of  homage  to  our- 
selves and  to  our  sons  and  the  installation  of  the  grand 
domestic  shall  take  place  forthwith  in  our  privy 
chamber,"  and  she  beckoned  imperiously  to  Niceph- 
orus to  attend  her  at  once. 

Homage  and  installation  were  duly  performed  ac- 
cording to  the  ceremonial  of  that  most  ceremonious  of 
courts.  All  were  at  last  dismissed,  but  a  secret  mes- 
sage from  the  empress  recalled  the  general  to  a  private 
interview  alone  in  her  own  cabinet. 

He  fell  on  his  knees,  and,  seizing  her  hand  in  his,  he 
kissed  it  with  passion.  Looking  up  to  her  with  all  the 
fervor  with  which  he  had  ever  invoked  the  Mother  of 
God  in  his  prayers,  he  murmured:  "My  queen,  my 
savior,  my  good  angel,  you  have  saved  my  life  and  my 
honor!" 

"I  have  saved  your  life,  indeed,  and  at  the  risk  of 
my  own.  I  may  die  of  this  battle  for  your  sake,  but 
I  shall  die  with  joy.  My  hero,  my  lord  and  master, 
you  and  I  are  henceforth  one.  We  will  rule  Rome  to- 
gether, side  by  side,  or  die  in  each  other's  arms." 

Then  Theophano  bent  down  to  the  hero,  as  he  knelt 
at  her  feet;  she  threw  her  bare  arms  round  his  neck 

224 


Empress  and  Chamberlain 

and  printed  on  his  brow  a  long,  melting,  fervid  kiss, 
which  thrilled  through  the  veteran  to  the  marrow  of 
his  bones. 

At  this  moment  the  curtain  over  the  door  of  the 
cabinet  was  half  pushed  aside  by  a  massive  arm  in  an 
embroidered  robe.  .  Bringas  had  ventured  to  make  a 
last  appeal  to  the  Regent,  and  had  suddenly  sought 
her  in  her  privy  cabinet. 

Standing  behind  them,  himself  unseen,  he  watched 
the  embrace,  and  stealthily  withdrew  without  a  word. 
It  burst  on  the  astute  mind  of  the  eunuch  like  a 
thunderclap  how  it  was  that  he  had  been  outwitted 
and  rebuffed.  He  saw  his  own  danger,  and  the  forces 
arrayed  against  him.  He  was  no  longer  dealing  merely 
with  the  intrigues  of  a  woman  and  the  ambition  of  a 
soldier.  He  saw  that  the  man  and  the  woman,  who  of 
all  Rome  had  the  greatest  influence,  were  now  bound 
together  in  love  as  well  as  in  policy.  He  felt  how 
strong  was  the  combination  against  him,  but  it  made 
him  more  fiercely  resolved  to  win  in  the  strife. 

The  wild  excitement  of  the  great  city  would  not 
suffer  the  triumph  to  be  delayed  beyond  the  days  re- 
quired to  bring  across  from  Asia  picked  detachments 
of  the  victorious  army,  the  principal  prisoners  of  war, 
and  the  trophies,  spoils,  and  standards.  The  cere- 
monies began  with  a  solemn  Pannychid — a  succession 
of  magnificent  Te  Deums  chanted  in  the  great  church 
continuously  all  through  the  night,  in  presence  of  a 
crowd  of  dignitaries,  senators,  officials,  soldiers,  and 
prelates,  adorned  in  state  robes,  amid  a  blaze  of  lamps 
from  a  thousand  chandeliers,  while  the  ladies  of  the 
court  crowded  into  the  galleries  beneath  the  mosaic 
domes  of  the  Holy  Wisdom.     Then  took  place  the  tri- 

225 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

umph  itself,  on  a  scale  even  more  magnificent  than 
that  which  Nicephorus  had  celebrated  on  his  return 
from  Crete.  From  the  country  round,  and  from  the 
towns  on  the  Thracian  and  Asian  shores  and  on  both 
sides  of  the  Bosphorus,  masses  of  people  poured  in,  so 
that  the  enormous  city  was  one  continuous  throng 
from  Golden  Horn  to  Golden  Gate.  From  early  dawn 
the  vast  procession  of  troops  on  foot  and  on  horse,  of 
prisoners  in  chains,  camels,  horses,  trophies,  and  gold 
and  silver  vessels,  was  extended  along  the  "middle" 
street,  which  had  been  decorated  for  the  occasion  with 
wreaths,  flowers,  tapestries,  flags,  and  Byzantine,  or 
what  we  now  call  "Venetian,"  masts. 

At  length  the  Hippodrome  was  reached.  On  its  tiers 
of  seats  up  to  the  marble  colonnades  were  seated  one 
hundred  thousand  spectators  in  gala  dress,  according 
to  their  rank.  The  cataphracti  or  mailed  cuirassiers 
came  first,  and  were  followed  by  detachments  of  light- 
armed  bow-men  from  the  Anatolian  mountains,  and 
Macedonian  shield-men  in  close  phalanx.  After  them 
advanced  Thracian  and  Albanian  spearmen,  wild  Scyth- 
ian Cossacks,  and  at  last  a  corps  of  Varangian  battle- 
axe  foot -soldiers  of  the  guard.  Next  were  led  detach- 
ments of  the  finest  Arab  chargers,  taken  from  the  stable 
of  Chamdas's  own  palace,  with  their  brilliant  trappings, 
arms,  and  accoutrements  of  gorgeous  tones  and  Orient- 
al fantasy  of  ornament.  Then  came  the  camels  taken 
from  the  Saracens,  bearing  the  embroideries,  stand- 
ards, pennons,  carpets,  tents,  kettle-drums,  and  trump- 
ets, with  the  general  spoil  of  variegated  colors  and  in 
confused  mass.  A  wild  shout  arose  from  the  benches 
on  either  side  as  the  Hagarene  captives  in  white  tunics 
were  driven  forward;  and,  as  they  were  forced  to  pros- 

226 


Empress  and   Chamberlain 

trate  themselves  in  the  dust  before  the  imperial  bal- 
cony, the  whole  circus,  at  the  signal  of  the  precentors 
of  the  factions,  broke  out  into  the  ceremonial  chant  as 
ordained  in  the  book  of  rites : 

"Glory  to  God  who  has  given  us  this  triumph  over 
the  children  of  Hagar!  Glory  to  God  who  has  laid  in 
the  dust  the  cities  of  the  Saracens!  Glory  to  God  who 
has  confounded  those  who  mock  at  the  Mother  of 
God! 

"  By  the  just  judgment  of  God  our  enemies  have  been 
thrust  down!  The  horse  and  his  rider  hath  He  cast 
into  the  sea! 

"Thy  right  hand,  O  Lord,  hath  become  glorious  in 
power.  Thy  right  hand,  O  Lord,  hath  dashed  in  pieces 
the  enemy. 

"Who  is  like  unto  Thee,  O  Lord;  who  is  like  Thee, 
glorious  in  holiness,  doing  wonders? 

"Thou  in  Thy  mercy  hast  led  forth  the  people  which 
Thou  hast  redeemed! 

"The  Lord  shall  reign  forever  and  ever!" 

So  the  Te  Deum  rang,  led  by  the  trained  choirs  of 
the  factions,  each  under  their  musical  directors.  The 
entire  audience  of  the  circus  joined  in,  and  the  familiar 
chant  was  taken  up  by  the  vast  crowds  outside  the 
Hippodrome,  until  from  some  hundred  thousand  voices 
in  unison  the  song  of  triumph  was  borne  across  the 
waters  far  away. 

It  was  a  scene  that  combined  the  barbarous  splen- 
dors of  a  triumph  by  the  Scipios  and  Cagsars  of  old 
Rome,  the  fierce  exultation  of  the  tribes  of  Israel  re- 
corded in  the  book  of  Exodus,  and  the  majestic  pomp 
of  a  Te  Deum  celebrated  as  a  religious  rite  with  all  the 
fervor  of  the  Orthodox  Church. 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

The  long  procession  of  the  trophies  and  spoils  of  the 
Saracens  of  Syria  and  Aleppo  was  closed  by  that 
trophy  which,  to  the  people  of  Byzantium,  outweighed 
in  value  all  the  gold  and  silver,  the  gems,  the  em- 
broideries, the  Damascene  arms,  and  the  enamels.  This 
was  a  silver-gilt  and  jewelled  case  containing  battered 
fragments  of  the  camel's -hair  tunic  of  St.  John  the 
Baptist.  This  inestimable  relic  had  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  the  infidel  on  the  capture  of  the  Holy  City  by 
Omar.  For  more  than  three  centuries  it  had  remained 
in  the  hands  of  the  Hagarenes.  The  recovery  of  this 
precious  relic  had  seemed  to  the  delighted  populace  a 
glory  to  be  placed  beside  the  restoration  of  the  true 
cross  to  Jerusalem  by  the  Emperor  Heraclius.1 

As  the  last  notes  of  the  chant  died  away,  the  hero 
of  the  hour  was  seen  to  enter  the  Hippodrome  from 
the  Forum  of  Constantine,  from  whence  the  roar 
of  the  people  had  already  reached  the  expectant 
crowds  in  the  circus.  Nicephorus,  in  his  golden  pano- 
ply, covered  with  the  crimson  military  cloak,  stood  in 
the  brazen  chariot  of  state  which  was  drawn  by  four 
milk-white  chargers  led  by  grooms  on  foot.  As  he 
advanced  slowly  round  the  vast  circus,  the  shouts  of 
the  assembly  broke  out  with  a  frenzy  of  cheers;  and 
the  choirs  took  up  the  chant  again:  "Long  live  the 
ever- victorious  commander!  Son  of  God,  give  him 
many  happy  years!  Son  of  God,  strengthen  his  arm 
in  battle!  Son  of  God,  give  the  victory  to  this  Thy 
people  of  Rome!     Long  years  to  our  Basileis,  whose 

1  This  holy  tunic  of  the  Baptist  was  kept  reverentially  in 
Constantinople  for  240  years,  when  it  became  the  prize  of  the 
Latin  conquerors  in  1204,  and  was  carried  off  by  Robert  de 
Clari  to  the  abbey  of  Corbie. 

228 


Empress  and  Chamberlain 

loyal  servants  we  are!     May  this  holy  empire  of  Rome 
be  preserved  forever  and  ever!" 

With  these  prayers  to  Heaven  resounding  in  the 
great  amphitheatre,  the  victorious  marshal  advanced 
to  the  eastern  end,  at  which  stood  the  cathisma,  or 
imperial  tribune,  where  Theophano,  in  her  robes  of 
state,  blazing  with  gold  brocade  and  jewels,  sat  be- 
tween her  two  infants,  the  joint  Basileis,  Basil  II.  and 
Constantine  VIII.,  as  they  were  destined  to  become. 
The  milk-white  chargers  were  reined  in  and  the  car 
was  halted  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  Then  Nicephorus, 
escorted  by  chamberlains  and  officers,  both  military 
and  civil,  stepped  from  his  chariot  and  ascended  the 
staircase  to  the  imperial  throne.  There  he  ungirt  his 
sword  and  laid  it  at  the  feet  of  the  empress;  and,  pros- 
trating himself  on  the  ground,  he  offered  his  homage 
by  kissing  the  fringe  of  her  robe  and  by  placing  his  hands 
upon  the  knees  of  the  two  wondering  royal  children. 

Amid  thunders  of  applause  from  the  vast  arena 
and  renewed  chants  of  "Long  life  to  the  ever -victo- 
rious commander!  Long  years  to  our  august  Basileis! 
God  preserve  this  holy  empire  of  Rome!" — the  soldier 
rose  to  his  feet.  His  queen  beamed  down  on  him  from 
her  jewelled  throne  with  looks  of  mingled  love,  triumph, 
and  admiration,  that  burned  into  his  inmost  soul.  And 
as  he  retreated  slowly  backward  from  the  royal  pres- 
ence he  saw  the  cruel  glare  of  envy  and  hatred  which 
Bringas  and  his  partisans  cast  on  him.  The  smiles  of 
the  queen  and  the  scowls  of  the  ministers  were  alike 
full  of  warning  and  charged  with  destiny.  If  the  hatred 
of  the  mighty  statesman  was  a  menace  to  his  life,  the 
favor  of  the  sovereign  seemed  to  summon  him  to 
mount  to  a  dizzy  and  perilous  height. 

229 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Shaken  to  his  soul  by  a  storm  of  forebodings,  amaze- 
ment, hope,  and  passion,  Nicephorus  drew  himself  free 
from  the  throng  of  flatterers,  friends,  and  rivals;  and, 
wrapping  himself  in  a  trooper's  cloak,  so  as  not  to  be 
recognized,  the  triumphant  general  had  himself  rapidly 
borne  away  to  his  own  modest  home  in  a  distant 
quarter  of  the  city.  There,  tearing  off  his  accoutre- 
ments and  all  insignia  of  office  and  rank,  he  flung 
himself  on  his  simple  couch  in  solitary  seclusion;  and, 
falling  on  his  knees  before  a  small  ikon  of  Mary,  he 
prayed  to  the  Mother  of  God  to  guide  his  steps  in  the 
dark  wilderness  in  which  he  found  himself  entangled. 
Transported  out  of  himself  far  above  the  vociferous 
pageants  of  that  exhausting  day,  Nicephorus  gave  him- 
self, with  all  the  mystical  imagination  of  his  Oriental 
nature,  to  visions  wherein  he  beheld  the  Queen  of 
Heaven  offering  him  a  place  among  the  blessed  saints 
who  had  forsaken  things  of  the  earth  for  that  peace 
which  the  world  cannot  give. 


XVI 

Caesar  at  the  Rubicon 

ALL  through  the  night  of  that  eventful  day  of  his 
f\  triumph  the  general  tossed  in  a  tumult  of  con- 
flicting emotions,  while  the  noisy  crowds  surrounded 
his  abode  with  shouts  of,  "Our  ever  -  victorious 
commander!"  and  again,  "Nicephorus  to  the  Sacred 
Palace!"  and  even  "Nicephorus,  our  Basileus!"  He 
refused  to  show  himself  to  the  people,  denied  access 
to  all,  sent  for  the  monk  Athanasius  in  order  to  con- 
fess, and  had  himself  clothed  in  the  rough  garb  of  a 
postulant.  He  now  fully  understood  the  imminent 
peril  to  his  liberty  and  his  life  which  the  hatred  of  the 
rulmg  faction  involved.  He  felt,  with  a  burning  sense 
of  shame,  that  with  all  her  fascinations  the  empress 
sought  him  rather  as  a  tool  than  as  a  husband.  And 
he  saw  before  him  the  whirlpool  of  revolution,  civil 
war,  calumny,  and  crime  that  he  must  face  if  he  suf- 
fered himself  to  be  looked  on  as  an  aspirant  to  the 
throne.  He  fell  back,  with  groans  and  prayers,  on  his 
old  purpose  of  seeking  rest  in  a  cell  as  a  simple  monk 
or  hermit,  as  his  own  uncle  had  been  before  him. 

At  last  the  faithful  Digenes  succeeded  in  forcing  his 

way  to  the  chief.     The  whole  city,  he  said,  was  now 

in  wild  excitement,  calling  for  the  general  to  assume 

the    government    and    displace    the    hated    eunuch. 

16  231 


or 
UNIVER3H 

OF 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Bringas,  he  said,  was  well  aware  of  the  danger  to  him- 
self, and  was  conspiring  to  arrest  and  destroy  his  rival. 
There  was  but  one  course  left.  To  save  his  own  life, 
to  protect  his  friends,  to  restore  the  empire,  the  gen- 
eral must  grasp  the  power  that  all  Rome  and  the  army 
thrust  into  his  hands. 

"It  cannot  be,"  said  Nicephorus,  calmly;  "I  am 
about  to  retire  from  this  world  of  blood,  struggle,  and 
evil  passions.  I  have  sent  for  the  holy  man  of  Mount 
Athos,  who  is  preparing  for  my  admission  to  their 
order.  When  my  enemies  find  that  I  withdraw  from 
the  contest  and  have  no  more  part  in  things  of  earth, 
they  will  leave  me  in  peace  and  soon  forget  me.  I 
shall  be  forgotten— ay,  by  those,"  he  added,  bitterly, 
"who  now  profess  to  care  for  me.  It  shall  never  be 
said  that  a  Phocas  turned  rebel  to  the  dynasty  of 
Basil  and  plotted  to  drive  an  infant  Basil  from  the 
throne  of  his  fathers,  or  made  himself  the  tool  of  a 
woman's  ambition.  Go,  my  son;  go  and  tell  them  in 
the  city  and  in  the  palace  that  Nicephorus  has  now 
become  the  hermit,  Father  Zachariah." 

"It  is  too  late,"  said  Digenes,  with  a  groan — "too 
late  to  save  you  from  arrest,  mutilation— it  may  be 

death!" 

Here  the  colloquy  was  interrupted  by  a  messenger, 
who  brought  the  general  a  formal  missive  from  the 
Sacred  Palace  that  the  council  of  state  craved  the 
immediate  presence  of  the  grand  domestic  of  the  east 
to  confer  on  urgent  affairs  of  the  empire. 

"Tell  them,"  said  Nicephorus,  with  proud  contempt, 
"that  I  have  done  with  council,  palace,  empire,  poli- 
tics, and  arms.  I  go  to  my  cell.  I  leave  it  to  them  to 
save  Rome.     I  will  not  come." 

232 


Caesar  at  the   Rubicon 

Digenes  withdrew  in  despair;  and  now  the  hermit 
Athanasius  was  again  announced  as  craving  an  inter- 
view. 

"Let  him  come,"  said  the  great  soldier,  as  he  flung 
himself  down  in  abasement  beneath  the  ikon;  "all  will 
withdraw,  and  see  that  no  man  enter  here." 

"Holy  father,  strengthen  me  in  my  purpose," 
groaned  the  chief,  as  the  hermit  stood  behind  him,  still 
completely  enveloped  from  head  to  foot  and  concealed 
in  an  immense  black  cloak. 

Slowly  the  hood  of  the  mantle  was  thrown  back 
and  disclosed  the  pale  countenance  of  Theophano  her- 
self. Her  eyes  flashed  with  excitement ;  her  features 
shone  with  looks  of  eagerness,  entreaty,  and  love; 
her  voice  shook  with  anxiety,  passion,  and  fear. 

"My  hero,"  she  broke  out,  spasmodically,  "your  life 
is  at  stake,  and  I  cannot  save  you  from  these  fiends. 
They  have  already  set  the  vermilion  seal  to  an  order 
to  have  you  arrested  and  deprived  of  sight.  They  will 
seize  you  if  you  set  foot  in  the  palace,  and  our  friends 
there  are  not  strong  enough  to  save  you.  They  will 
seize  you  even  if  you  stay  here.  Rush  for  sanctuary 
to  the  great  church  and  claim  the  protection  of  the 
patriarch.  I  came  here  myself  at  every  risk,  for  I 
dared  not  trust  a  messenger,  and  I  know  well,  my 
hero,  my  master,  my  saint,"  she  added,  in  her  sweetest 
voice  and  with  a  look  of  love,  "that  Nicephorus  is  a 
man  of  iron,  who  will  not  be  turned  from  his  purpose 
even  by  his  best  friend."  And  Theophano  put  her 
hand  upon  his  shoulder  as  he  still  remained  on  his 
knees  before  the  ikon,  and,  passing  her  soft  fingers 
over  his  burning  brow,  she  looked  down  into  his 
eyes. 

233 


Theophano :  The   Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  slowly,  "I  am  dead  to  this  world. 
I  am  dedicated  now  to  God  and  to  heaven." 

"  It  shall  not  be!"  she  replied,  passionately.  "  If  you 
choose  to  sacrifice  yourself,  will  you  leave  the  Rome 
you  have  saved  to  the  mercy  of  these  wretches,  to  the 
savagery  of  the  infidel?  Will  you  doom  to  a  prison 
and  mutilation  my  poor  children,  your  true  and  lawful 
sovereigns?  Will  you  abandon  me  to  degradation,  to 
a  life  of  torment,  to  the  worst  shame  that  the  eunuch 
or  the  Hagarenes  can  devise — me  who  offer  you  every- 
thing that  the  love  of  woman  and  the  authority  of  an 
empress  of  Rome  can  offer  a  soldier  of  the  Cross? 
Nicephorus,  son  of  the  hero  Bardas,  of  the  noble  race 
of  Phocas,  can  you  abandon  to  shame  and  ruin  the 
widow  of  your  sovereign  and  the  children  of  the  house 
of  Basil?" 

He  sank  on  the  ground  before  her,  and  taking  the 
skirt  of  her  robe  in  his  hands  he  pressed  it  to  his  lips 
with  veneration,  as  if  it  were  the  girdle  of  the  Mother 
of  God. 

"I  go,"  she  murmured;  "I  dare  not  stay;  they  will 
send  their  guards  here  in  a  few  moments.  Rush  to  the 
church.  Claim  sanctuary.  I  bid  you  in  the  name  of 
Christ — do  this  for  me — and  for  mine." 

Theophano  disappeared  as  silently  and  mysteriously 
as  she  had  come.  And  now  Digenes  broke  in  again 
with  news  that  the  palace  guard  were  already  on  their 
way  to  seize  the  general.  He  concealed  Nicephorus 
in  a  military  cloak  and  forced  him  into  the  church  of 
the  Holy  Wisdom.  Then  he  rushed  to  the  patriarch 
to  implore  his  protection  for  the  fugitive  who  had  taken 
sanctuary  in  the  most  venerated  temple  of  the  city. 
Polyeuctus  summoned  his  whole  chapter,  and,  bearing 

234 


Caesar  at  the   Rubicon 

aloft  the  miraculous  crucifix,  took  Nicephorus  under 
his  guardianship.  In  the  mean  time  Digenes  called  to- 
gether the  partisans  of  Nicephorus,  and  appealed  to 
the  people  to  protect  their  hero  from  the  vengeance  of 
his  rivals.  Furious  mobs  gathered  round  the  cathedral, 
shouting,  "Long  live  the  victorious  chief!"  "Death 
to  the  eunuch!"  "Nicephorus,  our  king!"  and  they 
offered,  by  their  mass  and  violence,  effective  resistance 
to  the  guards  who  attempted  to  enter  the  church  and 
arrest  the  chief. 

Polyeuctus,  with  his  austere  virtue  and  genuine  pa- 
triotism, had  long  desired  to  put  an  end  to  the  corrupt 
and  savage  reign  of  the  powerful  eunuch,  and  he  flung 
himself  into  the  defence  of  Nicephorus  with  all  the 
energy  of  his  fiery  and  generous  nature.  He  vehe- 
mently denounced  his  purpose  of  retiring  to  a  cell, 
refused  him  absolution,  and  menaced  him  with  ex- 
communication and  every  spiritual  penalty  unless  he 
continued  to  do  his  duty  to  the  state.  Dragging  the 
general  with  him,  girdled  by  a  crowd  of  priests  bearing 
sacred  images  and  relics,  in  the  midst  of  an  immense 
mob  of  citizens  cheering  the  hero  of  the  day,  the  pa- 
triarch forced  Nicephorus  into  the  senate,  which  had 
been  already  convoked  by  the  regent's  will. 

There  Polyeuctus,  with  the  general  standing  beside 
him,  poured  out  an  impassioned  appeal,  of  which  this 
is  the  substance:  He  gave  a  moving  picture  of  the 
decay  of  the  empire  and  the  ravages  of  the  infidel  by 
sea  and  land  until  the  invincible  arm  of  Nicephorus 
had  driven  them  back  to  the  far  east.  He  spoke  of 
the  orgies  of  the  late  reign  and  of  the  corruptions  that 
had  eaten  into  the  heart  of  the  government.  The 
prime-minister,  who  had  suffered — nay,  encouraged — 

235 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

all  this  corruption,  he  said,  now  claimed  to  be  undis- 
puted master  of  the  empire,  and  was  affecting  to  be 
the  real  Augustus  in  the  name  of  an  inexperienced 
woman  and  her  two  babes.  "Let  us  close  this  era  of 
corruption  and  fraud,"  he  continued,  "by  giving  ab- 
solute power  to  the  hero  who  has  twice  saved  our  name 
and  faith  from  its  deadly  foes — this  stern  and  pious 
soldier  who  is  feared  as  much  for  his  honesty  by  the 
evil  crew  of  the  palace  minions  as  he  is  feared  for  his 
invincible  prowess  by  the  Hagarenes  of  Abd-el-Aziz  or 
of  the  accursed  Chamdas,  the  enemy  of  Christ.  Sen- 
ators, magnates,  and  officials  of  Rome,  there  is  but 
one  man  who  can  restore  this  empire  and  confront 
its  secret  enemies  at  home  as  well  as  its  open  foes 
abroad.  Let  us  confer,  as  our  forefathers  of  Rome 
would  do  of  old,  dictatorial  power  on  the  one  man  who 
is  worthy  to  wield  it." 

This  fervid  and  bold  appeal  was  received  with  cheers 
by  a  majority  of  the  Senate,  but  the  party  of  Bringas 
met  it  with  furious  opposition.  Amid  the  storm  of 
conflicting  voices,  Nicephorus  himself  came  forward 
to  protest  that  he  would  accept  no  office  or  task  which 
in  any  way  trenched  on  the  rights  and  prerogatives  of 
the  regent  or  menaced  the  succession  to  the  throne 
of  their  lawful  sovereigns,  the  infant  Basileis.  With 
his  hand  on  the  holy  relics,  which  the  deacons  had 
carried  before  the  patriarch  into  the  senate  house, 
Nicephorus  swore  in  presence  of  the  entire  senate,  the 
priests,  and  ministers  assembled,  that  he  prayed  God 
to  strike  him  down  with  the  foulest  form  of  death,  and 
to  consign  his  soul  to  eternal  damnation,  if  he  ever 
should  break  his  faith  as  a  loyal  subject  of  the  regent 
and  the  two  Augusti.     On  their  side,  the  senate,  by 

236 


Cassar   at  the   Rubicon 

its  chief  officials,  swore  to  maintain  in  his  office  the 
grand  domestic  of  the  east,  to  suffer  no  act  of  state, 
no  appointment  to  office,  and  no  dismissal  from  office 
to  be  made  without  his  sanction  and  advice. 

Nicephorus  was  saved.  So  far  as  words  and  oaths 
could  go — and  they  did  not  go  far  in  the  city  "that 
God  protects" — he  was  practically  invested  with  des- 
potic powers.  But  in  face  of  the  savage  enmity  of 
Bringas  and  his  party,  and  without  any  adequate 
body  of  troops  devoted  to  him,  the  general  knew  how 
precarious  was  his  life  in  the  capital.  He  hurriedly 
withdrew  and  hastened  to  his  headquarters  in  Cappa- 
docia,  where  his  friends  gave  out  that  he  was  busy 
organizing  his  army  for  a  fresh  expedition  into  the 
east.  The  struggle  between  Theophano  and  the 
eunuch  was  carried  on  by  both  sides  with  desperate 
energy  and  unscrupulous  arts.  The  regent  now  took 
into  her  favor  Digenes,  the  akritas,  as  a  trusty  par- 
tisan to  Nicephorus,  and  had  even  sanctioned  his  mar- 
riage with  the  Princess  Agatha.  Theophano  now  saw 
the  advantage  of  gathering  to  her  faction  the  relations 
of  her  late  husband,  whose  legal  successor  she  claimed 
to  be.  She  restored  to  their  rank  and  liberty  the 
sisters  of  Romanus,  now  aunts  of  the  Basileis  de  jure, 
and  ranged  round  her  all  the  friends  of  the  chivalrous 
akritas  and  all  the  partisans  of  the  princesses  of  the 
Basilian  dynasty.  On  his  side,  the  astute  lord  cham- 
berlain was  straining  every  nerve  to  find  rivals  to 
Nicephorus,  who  might  act  as  a  counterpoise.  He  was 
even  suspected  by  the  regent  of  looking  to  the  de- 
posed family  of  Lecapenus,  the  late  emperor,  for  a 
possible  pretender  to  the  throne. 

After  the  revolution,  which  had  driven  out  the  sons 

237 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

of  Romanus  Lecapenus  and  restored  to  his  legal  rights 
Constantine  Born-in-the-Purpie,  Stephanus  Lecapenus 
had  been  a  state  prisoner  for  nearly  twenty  years  in 
strict  seclusion.  He  was  now  kept  under  rigid  sur- 
veillance in  the  island  of  Lesbos.  In  the  church  of 
Methymna  he  was  suffered  to  attend  the  solemn  mass 
on  the  eve  of  Easter  Sunday.  He  was  led  to  the  altar, 
and  there  was  offered  the  consecrated  elements  by  the 
archpriest  officiating.  As  he  drank  the  cup  he  was 
seen  to  stagger  and  fall,  and  before  the  rite  was  con- 
cluded he  lay  a  corpse  in  the  church.  The  report  of 
his  death  was  a  three  days'  wonder  at  Byzantium,  and 
a  fruitful  occasion  for  suspicion,  recrimination,  and 
gossip.  But  the  sudden  death  of  royal  prisoners,  de- 
posed sovereigns,  and  possible  pretenders  was  too 
common  an  incident  in  such  times  to  cause  any  serious 
commotion.  The  faction  of  the  regent  accused  the 
eunuch  of  the  murder.  The  faction  of  Bringas  laid 
it  at  the  door  of  the  regent.  Its  only  effect  was  to 
make  each  more  suspicious  of  the  other  side,  as  well  as 
more  desperate  in  their  own  schemes. 

Nicephorus  was  now  working  night  and  day  at  the 
reorganization  and  equipment  of  his  veteran  army. 
His  ulterior  plans  were  undecided.  But  he  saw  that, 
both  for  his  own  life  and  freedom,  as  well  as  for  the 
defence  of  the  empire,  his  command  of  an  army  per- 
fect in  discipline  and  ready  for  instant  action  was  an 
indispensable  condition.  Whether  he  was  to  crush  the 
Saracen  forever,  whether  he  was  to  save  his  own  life, 
he  must  be  at  the  head  of  troops  devoted  to  himself 
and  perfectly  ready  to  fight.  Michael,  a  secret  emis- 
sary of  the  regent,  had  just  left  his  tent  with  an  urgent 
appeal  from  Theophano  to  hasten  back  to  the  capital 

238 


Caesar  at  the   Rubicon 

with  a  powerful  army,  in  order  to  save  her  and  her 
children  from  the  machinations  of  Bringas.  Thrusting 
aside  his  maps,  plans,  and  the  reports  of  his  officers, 
Nicephorus  brooded  over  the  tremendous  issues  at 
stake — equally  full  of  peril  whether  he  advanced  or 
drew  back. 

Hour  after  hour  the  general  meditated,  torn  in  op- 
posite ways  by  love  and  doubt,  by  eagerness  to  obey 
his  enchantress  and  by  horror  at  the  sin  of  plunging 
the  empire  in  civil  war.  In  despair  he  flung  himself 
down  with  groans  on  his  couch.  Suddenly  there  burst 
into  his  tent  John  Tzimisces,  in  a  state  of  wild  excite- 
ment which  made  him  defy  all  the  courtesies  of  life. 
"What!  are  you  sleeping,  general?"  the  impetuous 
soldier  broke  forth  —  "asleep,  when  that  wretched 
eunuch  is  plotting  your  death!  Up,  or  it  will  be  too 
late;  there  is  not  an  hour  to  lose!  March,  or  enter  the 
prison  in  which  Bringas  has  ordered  us  to  fling  you!" 

"Prison!  what  prison?"  said  Nicephorus,  stupefied 
by  the  violence  of  the  furious  Joannes. 

"Read  this,"  said  John;  "  and  a  similar  offer  is  made 
to  General  Courcouas!" 

The  letter  was  a  long  and  formal  document,  signed 
by  Joseph  Bringas  in  the  name  of  the  council  of  state, 
over  which  he  presided,  detailing  the  facts  of  the  vast 
conspiracy  that  they  had  discovered  in  Byzantium  to 
do  away  with  the  infant  Basileis  and  to  place  the 
popular  general  on  the  throne  of  Basil.  This  plot,  it 
was  added,  was  directed  by  Nicephorus  in  person, 
while  pretending  to  march  against  the  Saracen,  and 
his  agents  and  partisans  had  already  been  arrested 
and  put  to  torture.  His  father  Bardas  was  in  prison, 
and  his  brother  Leo  was  about  to  be  arrested.     The 

239 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

arrest  arid  punishment  of  so  notorious  a  rebel  was  the 
duty  of  every  loyal  officer  of  the  empire.  And  the 
council  charged  the  Lord  General  Joannes,  strategus 
of  the  Anatolian  theme,  and  the  Lord  General  Cour- 
couas,  strategus  of  the  Cappadocian  theme,  to  put 
away  this  public  enemy  by  all  and  every  means  in  their 
power.  When  they  had  fulfilled  this  service,  John 
should  be  duly  appointed  marshal  of  the  armies  of  the 
east,  in  place  of  the  traitor,  and  Courcouas  should 
have  supreme  command  of  the  armies  of  the  west. 
"Seize  him,  and  force  on  him  the  tonsure  he  pretends 
he  desires,  and  immure  him  in  a  frontier  monastery 
for  life;  or  send  him  in  chains  to  us  at  Byzantium; 
we  shall  know  how  to  deal  with  him."  And  the  letter 
to  Tzimisces  was  inscribed  within,  "To  the  lord  mar- 
shal of  the  east,  hereafter  to  be  named  Basileus  of 
the  Romans." 

And  here  General  Courcouas  burst  in  with  the  sec- 
ond letter  to  the  same  effect.  He  was  as  much  ex- 
cited as  Tzimisces  himself,  and  equally  enraged  at  the 
treachery  of  Bringas. 

"What  can  we  do?"  said  Nicephorus,  gloomily;  "they 
hold  the  official  authority  of  the  palace;  to  wrest  it 
from  them  means  rebellion,  anarchy,  and  civil  war." 

"What  can  we  do?"  roared  Tzimisces,  aflame  with 
passion.  "  What!  shall  chiefs  such  as  we  are.  at  the  head 
of  the  finest  army  in  the  world,  suffer  ourselves  to  be 
the  slaves  of  a  vile  eunuch,  a  miserable  Paphlagonian? 
Are  we  going  to  be  crushed  by  the  infamous  tricks  of 
the  palace  harem?  There  is  not  an  hour  to  lose,  I 
say.  Advance,  or  perish!  Put  the  imperial  diadem 
on  your  brow  and  march  for  Constantinople  this  very 

day!" 

240 


Caesar  at  the   Rubicon 

So,  too,  said  Courcouas,  with  furious  gestures.  And, 
beside  themselves  with  rage,  the  two  generals  drew 
their  swords  and  pointed  them  at  the  bare  breast  of 
Nieephorus. 

"March!"  they  shouted,  "or  take  this  sword  and  die 
as  a  Roman  general  should  die  rather  than  be  made  a 
captive  and  a  slave!" 

In  the  midst  of  this  madness  the  officers  of  the  staff 
burst  in,  with  a  wild,  insubordinate  crowd  of  troopers, 
for  John  had  already  communicated  to  his  own  follow- 
ing the  infamous  proposals  sent  by  the  eunuch.  The 
news  flew  round  the  camp  and  excited  an  uproar. 
John,  Courcouas,  and  their  comrades  seized  Nieeph- 
orus as  he  was,  and  dragged  him  to  the  exercising 
plain,  where  already  the  troops  had  been  hastily  called 
to  arms.  They  mounted  their  commander  on  a  shield 
and  carried  him  round  the  squadrons  and  battalions 
with  a  roar  of  cries:  " Ever- victorious  Nieephorus!" 
"Autocrat  of  the  Romans!"  "All-powerful  Basileus!" 
" Long  life  to  Augustus,  our  sovereign  lord!"  "Long 
may  he  reign!"  "God  protect  our  invincible  emperor!" 
And  this  was  followed  by  a  roar  as  loud  and  as  spon- 
taneous from  ten  thousand  throats  at  once,  as  spears 
and  swords  ghstened  in  the  sunlight  and  the  eagles 
were  shaken  in  the  air:  "To  Rome!  to  Rome!  to  the 
city  of  the  Caesars!" 

Nieephorus,  indeed    had  crossed  his  Rubicon. 


XVII 
The   New   Basileus 

IT  was  a  glorious  morning  of  summer,  and  the  sun 
had  just  risen  over  the  crests  of  the  range  of  Anti- 
Taurus,  when  the  most  brilliant  army  of  that  warlike 
age  was  drawn  up  on  the  plain  of  Caesarea  for  the  in- 
stallation of  the  new  emperor.  Nicephorus  advanced 
to  the  tribune,  surrounded  by  the  counts,  strategi,  and 
captains  of  his  eastern  force.  He  had  suffered  them 
to  place  on  his  feet  the  vermilion  buskins  clasped  with 
their  golden  eagles — the  sign  of  majesty — but  he  reso- 
lutely refused  to  accept  the  diadem  and  the  purple 
mantle  they  sought  to  force  on  him.  Then  he  com- 
manded silence,  and,  with  that  voice  like  a  trumpet 
that  had  so  often  rung  along  their  ranks,  he  spoke 
thus : 

"Comrades,  it  is  with  no  desire  to  be  a  tyrant  that 
I  have  taken  up  these  imperial  trappings;  it  has  been 
forced  upon  me  by  your  summons  and  the  will  of  the 
army.  You  are  my  witnesses  how  unwillingly  I  assume 
the  task  of  preserving  this  our  realm  of  Rome,  and, 
indeed,  my  own  life.  Almighty  God  above  us  knows 
that  I  am  ready  to  give  my  life  for  you,  and  no  suffer- 
ing or  danger  can  turn  me  from  my  purpose.  You 
have  resolved  that  I  shall  not  be  crushed  by  the  inso- 
lent devices  of  that  upstart  eunuch,  who  presumes  to 

242 


The   New   Basileus 

play  the  despot  over  all.  He  holds  my  venerable 
father  Bardas  in  his  prisons;  he  is  hunting  to  death 
my  brother  Leo  and  my  friends;  he  has  sent  orders 
to  our  gallant  generals  here  to  send  me  in  chains  to 
the  capital,  there  to  be  blinded  or  murdered.  I  am 
going,  not  in  chains,  but  at  the  head  of  my  brave  sol- 
diers, to  wrest  the  power  of  the  empire  from  the  cruel 
hands  of  this  usurper,  to  rescue  my  father  and  my 
brother  from  his  clutches,  to  restore  the  government 
to  its  lawful  princes.  You  know  how  I  love  you,  my 
children,  and  will  stand  by  you  till  death.  Rise,  and 
put  your  hearts  into  the  fight.  There  is  stern  work 
for  us  to  do.  I  cannot  tell  you  that  it  can  be  done 
without  shedding  of  your  blood.  I  am  leading  you 
this  day,  not  against  Cretans  or  Scythians  or  Arabs, 
whom  you  have  so  often  beaten,  but  against  Romans. 
We  have  to  capture,  not  a  hill-fort,  but  that  great  city 
of  the  Cassars  on  the  Golden  Horn,  which  has  walls  and 
towers,  garrisons,  riches,  stores,  and  splendor  such  as 
no  other  city  on  earth  can  show.  God  is  with  me,  for 
my  cause  is  just.  I  go  not  to  dethrone  our  young 
sovereigns,  but  to  be  their  guardian  and  to  secure  their 
throne.  It  is  not  I  that  break  my  oath.  It  is  the 
perjured  villain  who  breaks  faith  with  me,  and  is  plot- 
ting to  kill  me  and  mine.  I  have  led  you  to  glory  in 
many  a  fight  of  old.  Follow  me  now  to  Rome,  where 
a  nobler  triumph  awaits  us,  the  cause  of  justice  and 
of  God  above!" 

These  words  roused  a  frenzy  of  excitement  in  the 
troops,  who  replied  with  shouts  of  applause,  with  the 
brandishing  of  their  lances  and  the  crash  of  arms. 
Their  beloved  general,  like  the  great  Ironside  he  was, 
would  mingle  appeals  to  battle  and  to  God  in  the  same 

243 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

speech,  for  he  well  knew  his  Armenian  and  Anatolian 
veterans  to  be  as  keen  for  fight  as  they  were  God-fear- 
ing in  heart.  "These  words  of  his,"  says  Leo  the 
deacon,  in  his  chronicle,  "stirred  the  army  to  an  in- 
describable state  of  excitement,  making  them  eager 
for  the  most  desperate  adventure.  The  soldiers  adored 
him  frantically  and  gloried  to  serve  under  him.  Bred 
to  war  from  his  youth  upward,  he  not  only  was  the 
bravest  of  the  brave  in  battle  and  endowed  with  mar- 
vellous personal  dexterity  in  arms,  but  he  had  that 
genius  for  inspiring  men  with  his  own  zeal  that  no 
one  of  that  age  could  be  compared  with  him  as  com- 
mander-in-chief. ' ' 

That  very  day  the  great  march  to  the  Bosphorus 
began.  Exercising  at  once  the  rights  of  emperor, 
Nicephorus,  with  politic  generosity,  conferred  on 
Tzimisces  and  on  Courcouas  the  very  dignities  with 
which  the  eunuch  had  proposed  to  purchase  their 
treason.  John  was  promoted  to  be  magistros  and 
grand  domestic  of  the  eastern  armies,  and  he  was 
placed  in  command  of  the  Asiatic  frontier  to  hold  in 
check  the  Saracens  of  Syria.  From  headquarters  there 
issued  a  stream  of  imperial  despatches,  nominations 
to  command,  orders  to  march,  and  official  requisitions. 
Every  high-road  and  every  dominant  post  was  occu- 
pied with  adequate  detachments.  The  passes,  the 
fortresses,  and  the  ports  were  all  taken  over  by  trusty 
officers  of  the  new  sovereign.  The  army  was  mobil- 
ized and  concentrated,  and  was  hurled  in  columns  by 
forced  marches  upon  the  shores  of  the  Propontis. 

The  whole  of  the  Asiatic  themes  being  thus  in  se- 
cure possession  of  the  new  sovereign,  and  the  seaboard 
closed    against    any   carrying   of   intellgence,    Bishop 

244 


The  New  Basileus 

Philotheus  was  sent  in  advance  with  imperial  missives 
addressed  to  the  patriarch  at  Constantinople,  to  the 
senate,  and  to  the  great  chamberlain  at  the  palace. 
The  despatch  to  the  latter  was  thus  worded: 

"You  will  prepare  to  receive  me,  Nicephorus  Phocas, 
your  sovereign,  now  duly  invested  with  imperial  au- 
thority. My  care  will  be  to  watch  over  the  infant 
sons  of  our  late  sovereign,  Romanus,  and  to  protect 
them  as  their  guardian  until  they  come  of  age.  I  shall 
devote  myself  to  the  service  of  the  state,  and  I  under- 
take to  increase  the  power  of  the  Roman  empire  by 
deeds  of  arms.  They  who  resist  my  will  must  take 
the  consequences  of  their  folly,  for  this  issue  must  be 
fought  out  to  the  death.  Their  blood  will  be  upon 
their  own  heads  if  they  choose  the  wrong  in  place  of 
the  right." 

So  skilful  had  been  the  dispositions  of  the  new  auto- 
crat, and  so  perfect  was  the  discipline  of  the  Asian  gov- 
ernment, that,  according  to  the  chronicle,  no  rumor  of 
the  resolution  that  had  taken  place  at  Caesarea  reached 
the  capital  until  the  bishop  presented  his  despatch  to 
Bringas  in  council.  The  eunuch,  beside  himself  with 
rage,  stormed  at  the  venerable  prelate,  as  if  he  had 
been  a  rude  messenger  from  some  barbarous  frontier 
chief.  He  flung  the  poor  bishop  into  prison,  pro- 
claimd  Nicephorus  a  rebel  and  an  outlaw,  and  pre- 
pared for  a  desperate  defence. 

Bringas  was  not  the  man  to  yield  without  a  stout 
fight.  As  his  overtures  to  John  and  to  Courcouas  had 
failed,  he  turned  to  leading  nobles  and  captains  in  the 
west,  whom  he  inspired  with  jealousy  of  Nicephorus. 
He  sent  for  Marianos  Apambas,  once  commander  of 
the  imperial  forces  in   Italy,  to  whom  he  committed 

245 


Theophano:  The   Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  defence  of  the  city.  He  secured  also  Paschal,  a 
former  strategus,  and  Nicholas  and  Leo  of  the  noble 
house  of  the  Tornicii.  The  vast  ramparts  of  the  city, 
with  their  three  hundred  towers,  were  made  ready  for 
assault,  the  city  gates  were  barred,  and  a  boom  was 
cast  across  the  Golden  Horn.  The  imperial  guard 
was  called  under  arms,  and  contingents  brought  in 
from  Macedonia  and  Thrace,  who  were  known  to  be 
always  jealous  of  the  eastern  divisions.  Bringas  got 
a  sentence  of  excommunication  against  Nicephorus; 
he  obtained  an  imperial  order  in  the  names  of  the  in- 
fant Basileis  declaring  the  family  of  Phocas  and  his 
partisans  as  outlaws. 

The  empress,  meantime,  shut  herself  close  in  her 
own  wing  of  the  palace,  guarded  by  the  most  powerful 
force  she  could  muster  to  her  defence.  There  the  Prin- 
cess Agatha  rushed  into  her  room  in  a  state  of  acute 
agony  with  the  news  that  the  party  of  Bringas  had 
drawn  up  an  order  for  the  arrest  of  Basil  Digenes,  the 
akritas,  whom  it  was  intended  to  mutilate  or  murder. 
"Find  some  way  to  save  him,"  she  cried  in  despair, 
"for  we  owe  him  this  service.  With  his  heroic  spirit, 
he  neglected  all  the  warnings  of  his  friends  to  escape 
in  time.  He  thought  he  could  still  aid  the  cause  of 
his  chief  by  watching  his  interests  here — and  I  fear 
that  he  lingered  still  for  my  sake — though  I  pressed 
him  to  think  of  the  danger  he  incurred.  Save  him, 
Augusta,  save  the  truest  friend  of  the  general  and  the 
noblest  soldier  of  Rome!  He  maybe  killed  or  blinded 
before  an  hour  is  passed." 

"Where  is  he  now?"  asked  Theophano.  "I  was  as- 
sured he  had  made  his  escape  into  Asia  to  the  army." 

"But  he  came  back  secretly  and  managed  to  reach 
246 


The  New   Basileus 

the  apartments  of  my  sister  and  myself — in  order," 
she  added,  with  a  blush,  "to  induce  me  to  fix  a  day  for 
our  marriage,  if  he  lived  through  the  turmoil  of  these 
times.  We  have  concealed  him  for  the  moment,  but 
we  cannot  protect  him  long." 

"He  shall  be  put  in  charge  of  our  own  cubiculars 
of  the  royal  chamber,  and  he  shall  be  enrolled  under 
another  name  in  the  corps  of  palace  guards  whom  I 
have  mustered  for  defence  of  myself  and  my  children. 
We  will  not  be  beaten  without  a  sharp  fight." 

The  news  now  ran  through  the  great  city  that  Niceph- 
orus,  with  the  vanguard  of  his  army,  had  reached  the 
shores  opposite.  He  was  actually  in  possession  of  Chry- 
sopolis,  the  modern  Scutari,  and  his  ensigns  could  be 
seen  in  the  summer  palace  of  Hieria,  on  the  shore  that 
now  faces  Seraglio  Point.  The  excitement  in  the  city 
grew  intense.  Vast  crowds  filled  the  streets  day  and 
night,  restrained  only  by  the  Macedonian  troops,  whom 
Bringas  had  posted  throughout  the  city,  which  was  de- 
clared to  be  in  a  state  of  siege.  The  passions  of  the 
multitude  rose  to  fever  pitch  when  it  was  discovered 
that  the  astute  eunuch  had  taken  care  to  have  all 
ships,  barges,  and  every  kind  of  craft  removed  from 
the  Asiatic  coast,  and  that  no  means  as  yet  existed 
by  which  Nicephorus  and  his  forces  could  cross  the 
straits.  At  dawn  it  was  found  that  the  venerable 
Bardas,  the  father  of  Nicephorus,  had  escaped  from 
his  prison  and  had  sought  sanctuary  in  the  cathedral, 
where  the  patriarch  had  taken  him  under  his  protection. 
The  guards  of  Bringas  were  sent  to  drag  the  veteran 
out  of  the  church ;  but  angry  crowds,  with  arms,  stones, 
and  staves,  drove  back  the  troops,  who  sought  to  force 
their  way  into  the  temple  and  to  seize  their  prisoner. 
17  247 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

It  was  now  the  morning  of  Sunday,  August  9th, 
and  vast  crowds  filled  the  church  of  the  Holy  Wisdom, 
where  the  service  of  the  day  had  begun.  Bringas, 
puffed  up  with  overweening  pride  in  his  own  authority 
and  confident  in  his  military  strength,  rode  down  in 
person  from  the  palace,  and  with  a  body  of  his  guards 
tried  to  force  his  way  to  the  very  choir.  He  harangued 
the  people  with  daring  insolence  and  threatened  them 
with  his  vengeance  and  an  embargo  on  corn.  This 
roused  the  citizens  to  fury,  and  Bringas  and  his  men 
were  driven  out  with  insults  and  missiles.  He  made 
his  way  back  to  the  palace,  with  magnificent  audacity, 
still  defying  the  mob,  and  even  ordering  the  corn 
market  to  be  closed  and  no  bread  to  be  sold  or  issued. 
But  finding  that  Theophano  and  the  royal  princesses 
were  strongly  guarded  and  barricaded  in  a  large  part 
of  the  vast  edifice,  where  Basil  Digenes  had  assumed 
the  chief  command,  he  felt  himself  no  longer  safe  there, 
and  shut  himself  up  with  his  guards  in  his  own  palace. 

The  city  thereon  broke  out  into  revolution,  and  for 
three  days  and  nights  desperate  street  fights  ensued  be- 
tween the  bands  of  citizens  who  sided  with  Nicephorus 
and  the  Macedonian  guards  who  remained  loyal  to 
Bringas.  By  degrees  armed  detachments  of  Niceph- 
orus 's  partisans  made  their  way  into  the  city,  and  some 
bands  managed  to  cross  the  Bosphorus.  Polyeuctus, 
with  his  clergy  and  masses  of  citizens,  bore  the  aged 
Bardas  in  triumph  to  the  imperial  palace,  and  there  in- 
stalled him  in  a  strong  position  of  defence.  In  one  of 
the  desperate  street  fights  which  raged  throughout  the 
city,  a  woman  threw  a  heavy  vase  from  a  top  window, 
which  clove  the  skull  of  Apambas,  the  commander  of 
the  Macedonians.     His  death  demoralized  the  last  de- 

248 


The  New   Basileus 

fenders  of  the  eunuch.  The  mob  now  stormed  his 
palace,  sacked  and  burned  it;  and  the  defeated  tyrant, 
in  turn,  fled  for  sanctuary  to  the  great  church  which 
his  intended  victim  had  so  recently  left.  His  par- 
tisans were  hunted  by  the  populace  and  thrown  into 
prison.  The  streets  of  the  capital  ran  with  blood. 
For  three  days  and  nights  massacre,  pillage,  arson 
raged  unchecked  through  the  mighty  city  "protected 
of  God."  Nicephorus,  with  his  officers  and  troops,  on 
the  Asian  coast,  without  vessels  to  cross  the  straits, 
watched  from  afar  the  tumult  which  they  were  power- 
less to  quell. 

The  party  of  the  new  Basileus  at  last  found  a  leader. 
Basil,  natural  son  of  the  former  emperor  or  usurper, 
Romanus  Lecapenus,  by  a  Russian  slave  of  the  harem, 
had  long  been  in  high  office  under  Constantine.  He 
was  created  a  patrician  in  that  reign,  captain  of  the 
guard,  president  of  the  senate,  grand  chamberlain, 
and  general  in  the  war  against  the  Saracens.  He  had 
been  prepared  in  childhood  for  high  office  short  of 
empire  by  the  barbarous  rite  of  emasculation,  which 
was  regarded  as  a  grotesque  form  of  lay  tonsure.1  But 
he  had  wonderful  energy,  courage,  and  sagacity  —  a 
born  statesman.  Before  the  accession  of  Romanus 
he  had  been  displaced  by  his  rival,  Bringas,  disgraced, 
deprived  of  office  and  rank,  and  consigned  to  obscurity 
and  strict  surveillance.     He  naturally  hated  the  eunuch 

1  Such  persons,  even  if  they  were  of  royal  blood,  could  be  in- 
trusted with  the  highest  office  and  power,  without  risk  of  their 
aspiring  to  the  throne,  from  which  by  law  and  custom  they 
were  cut  off  as  disqualified.  Throughout  the  whole  history  of 
the  Byzantine  empire,  as  of  the  sultanate,  they  often  rose  to 
almost  despotic  power. 

249 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

who  had  overthrown  him.  And  his  hour  of  retaliation 
had  come.  Arming  his  own  household,  his  slaves  and 
followers,  to  the  number  of  three  thousand,  he  pa- 
trolled the  city  in  force,  beating  down  the  remnants 
of  the  Bringas  faction,  proclaiming  the  new  emperor, 
and  restoring  a  regular  police  in  the  devastated  city. 

Thence  he  led  his  men  to  the  Golden  Horn,  seized 
the  ships  in  port,  and  despatched  them  across  the 
straits  to  transport  the  army  of  the  new  sovereign. 
The  imperial  fleet,  barges,  vessels  of  all  kinds,  and 
open  boats,  carried  over  crowds  of  citizens,  who  flocked 
to  hail  the  rising  sun  of  empire  with  shouts  of  "Long 
live  our  glorious  and  ever- victorious  Nicephorus!"  On 
Sunday,  August  16th,  exactly  a  week  from  the  out- 
break of  the  revolution,  the  new  emperor  was  escorted 
by  the  new  grand  chamberlain  and  a  swarm  of  func- 
tionaries to  the  capital  to  be  crowned.  The  imperial 
galley,  gilt  from  stem  to  stern,  dressed  with  silken 
banners  and  awnings,  had  a  deck  bridge  adorned  with 
figures  and  emblems  and  an  image  of  St.  George  at 
the  prow.  There  sat  on  his  throne  the  new  chief,  as 
his  oarsmen,  with  gilded  sweeps,  slowly  rowed  the 
state  vessel  beneath  the  city  walls  round  to  the  suburb 
of  Hebdomon,  south  of  the  mighty  ramparts.  Thence 
through  the  Golden  Gate,  the  autocrat,  in  golden  armor, 
rode  in  procession  to  the  church  of  the  Holy  Wisdom. 
He  sat  on  a  white  charger,  caparisoned  with  housings 
of  purple,  gold,  and  jewels.  The  long  route  of  many 
miles  in  extent,  thronged  with  vast  crowds  cheering 
the  new  sovereign,  was  adorned  with  wreaths,  banners, 
and  triumphal  arches.  At  various  points  on  the  course 
the  emperor  dismounted  to  prostrate  himself  in  many 
a  venerated  church  before  some  miraculous  image,  and 

250 


The   New   Basileus 

placed  lighted  tapers  in  sign  of  adoration.  At  other 
spots  he  had  to  be  disarmed  from  his  military  ac- 
coutrements and  invested  with  the  imperial  scara- 
mangion,  or  mantle  of  ermine  and  rare  furs.  His  sword 
was  then  laid  aside  and  the  sceptre  surmounted  with 
the  cross  was  placed  in  his  right  hand.  At  the  Golden 
Gate  the  Saracen  prisoners  fell  into  the  cortege,  and 
the  factions  met  him  with  their  eternal  chants  of  "  Hail, 
victorious  chief!"  "  Nicephorus,  king  of  the  Romans!" 

It  would  be  tedious  to  narrate  in  detail  the  intermi- 
nable ceremonies  of  that  long  day  of  triumph  and  con- 
secration. It  was  all  carried  out  minutely,  according 
to  the  book  of  ceremonies,  in  the  solemn  and  sacra- 
mental forms  that  had  been  used  at  the  installation  of 
Romanus  four  years  before,  forms  that  had  been  used 
in  the  city  of  the  Constantines  for  some  five  centuries 
already,  that  were  destined  to  be  used  there  for  some 
five  centuries  more.  These  secular  rites  have  been 
servilely  imitated  and  adapted  by  all  the  monarchies 
of  the  west  and  of  the  north  for  a  thousand  years 
since.  It  was  the  same  elaborate  consecration  of  a 
king  by  the  high-priests  of  the  state  church,  of  which 
we  lately  witnessed  the  revival  in  an  age  which  claims 
to  have  outgrown  Byzantine  servility,  superstition, 
and  gaudy  display. 

In  those  days  kings  and  their  people  attached  a 
mystical  importance  to  the  sacramental  character  of 
those  acts  of  consecration.  And  the  new  Basileus  was 
himself  a  mystic  among  mystics.  Accordingly,  Niceph- 
orus duly  prostrated  himself  before  the  miracle-working 
image  of  the  Mother  of  God;  the  tapers  were  duly 
lighted;  the  incense  ascended  from  the  altars;  the 
royal  vestments  were  duly  exchanged  for  the  imperial 

25i 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

tunic.  The  diadem  was  bound  round  the  grizzled 
head  of  the  new  sovereign;  the  military  greaves  were 
then  solemnly  changed  for  the  vermilion  buskins.  And 
thus  on  foot  the  emperor  entered  the  porch  of  the 
Holy  Wisdom,  where  he  was  met  by  the  patriarch 
and  all  his  chapter.  The  true  cross,  which  St. 
Helena  had  recovered,  and  which,  ultimately,  at  the 
fourth  crusade,  passed  to  St.  Louis,  in  Paris,  was 
solemnly  borne  before  the  monarch  amid  the  adoration 
of  the  worshippers  around.  Again  and  again  the  royal 
vestments  were  changed,  after  being  first  solemnly 
blessed  by  the  patriarch.  Then  the  emperor  was 
conducted  by  the  priests  to  the  ambon,  where  the 
prayers  and  offices  of  consecration  were  said,  and  the 
holy  oil  of  anointing  was  poured  on  the  royal  person; 
and  at  last  the  imperial  crown  was  solemnly  placed 
on  the  veteran's  brow  amid  chants  of  "Holy,  holy, 
holy,  glory  to  God  in  the  heaven,  peace  to  men  on 
earth!" 

But  the  very  enumeration  of  the  endless  stages  in 
the  rite  becomes  intolerable.  Nor  can  modern  patience 
endure  the  recital  of  the  perpetual  acts  of  reverence, 
homage,  symbolic  gestures,  of  the  processions,  f east- 
ings, and  gala  courtesies  of  that  prodigious  ceremonial. 
Hour  after  hour  the  chants  went  on  with  a  rhythm 
that  combined  Oriental  prostration  to  a  despot  with 
Christian  litanies  of  adoration:  "Hail,  Nicephorus, 
autocrat  of  the  Romans!"  "  Hail,  mighty  sovereign  of 
the  Romans!"  "Hail,  thou  who  hast  put  to  flight  our 
enemies!"  "Hail,  thou  who  hast  destroyed  the  cities  of 
the  foe!"  "Thou  hast  thrust  Ishmael  into  the  dust!" 
"God  hast  shown  pity  on  His  people,  in  that  He  has 
placed  thee  on  the  imperial  throne!"  "Rejoice,  thou 

252 


The   New   Basileus 

city  of  the  Romans!"  "Receive  him  whom  God  has 
crowned!"  "The  people  desire  Nieephorus  to  be  their 
king!"  "The  law  requires  him  to  reign!"  "The  palace 
asks  for  him  to  rule!"  "The  senate  calls  for  him!" 
' '  The  army  cries  out  for  him ! "  "  The  whole  world  craves 
for  Nieephorus  to  be  its  sovereign  lord!"  "Hear  us, 
O  God,  when  we  call  to  Thee!"  "  Hear  us,  0  God,  and 
grant  long  life  to  our  king!"  "Give  him  long  life,  O 
Christ!"  "God  preserve  him!"  "Long  may  he  reign!" 
"May  God  keep  this  Christian  realm  in  His  holy  keep- 
ing!" 

Such  were  the  chants  and  litanies  which  hour  after 
hour  rang  through  the  domes  of  the  Holy  Wisdom, 
rang  through  the  streets  and  porticos  of  the  vast  city. 
They  were  chants  which,  in  a  few  short  years,  were 
turned  into  execrations  and  comminations.  But  they 
are  the  very  words  which  for  a  thousand  years  the 
peoples  of  Europe  have  shouted  to  high  Heaven  on  the 
day  when  they  have  to  welcome  a  new  master  and  ask 
the  blessing  of  God  upon  his  reign. 

When  the  portentous  ceremonial  in  the  church  of  the 
Holy  Wisdom  was  completed,  the  imperial  procession 
was  formed  again,  led  by  a  body-guard  consisting  of 
one  hundred  Varangian  halberdiers  and  one  hundred 
young  nobles.  The  sovereign  was  escorted  to  the  hall 
of  the  throne,  where  the  homage  or  "adoration,"  as 
it  was  called,  was  duly  performed.  The  chief  digni- 
taries of  the  empire  prostrated  themselves  at  the  feet 
of  the  new  lord.  An  endless  stream  of  courtiers  fol- 
lowed, in  their  ranks,  as  marshalled  by  the  masters  of 
the  ceremonies.  At  last  Nieephorus  was  carried  back 
to  the  Sacred  Palace — now  "autocrat  of  the  Romans, 
the  equal  of  the  apostles,  successor  of  the  pious  Con- 

253 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

stantine,  of  him  who  had  founded  the  city  and  en- 
dowed the  church,  the  vicegerent  of  Providence  on 
earth."  There  he  was  joined  by  the  empress,  radiant 
and  triumphant,  who  received  him  with  a  smile  that, 
to  him,  was  of  more  value  than  the  blessings  of  a 
thousand  priests  and  the  cheers  of  a  hundred  thousand 
citizens,  a  smile  which  promised  him  a  crown  more 
precious  than  all  the  glories  and  the  powers  which  the 
empire  of  the  world  had  to  give. 


XVIII 
Emperor  and  Patriarch 

THE  first  act  of  the  new  emperor  was  to  hold  a 
council,  at  which  he  made  a  series  of  appointments 
to  fill  the  offices  of  the  empire.  He  dispensed  with 
the  elaborate  code  of  etiquette  which  for  centuries  had 
surrounded  every  act  of  the  Augustus.  He  took  his 
seat  at  the  council  -  board  as  if  he  were  still  general 
holding  a  council  of  war  among  his  officers  rather  than 
as  a  ceremonial  successor  of  Justinian  and  Theophilus. 
He  did  not  fill  up  the  appointment  of  parakeimomenos, 
or  grand  chamberlain,  the  office  which  had  made 
Bringas  the  real  master  of  the  empire ;  but  he  created 
Basil,  son  of  Lecapenus,  president  of  the  senate,  and 
practically  invested  him  with  chief  power.  Bardas, 
his  venerable  father,  whose  life  had  been  saved  in  the 
revolution,  was  now  created  Caesar,  a  title  revived 
from  an  earlier  age  of  the  Roman  empire.  John 
Tzimisces  was  confirmed  in  his  office  of  domestic,  or 
grand  marshal  of  the  east.  Leo,  the  brother,  was 
created  a  magistros  and  curopalates,  or  grand  marshal 
of  the  palace — i.  e.,  practically,  commander  of  the  im- 
perial body-guard.  Bringas  was  deported  to  a  distant 
monastery  in  Asia,  where  he  lived  in  obscurity  for 
years;  but  he  was  not  otherwise  punished,  and  was  not 
confined  in  an  actual  prison. 

255 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Nicephorus  then  ordered  his  own  household.  He 
refused  to  use  the  sacred  koiton,  or  bedchamber  of 
the  emperors.  He  had  his  camp-bed  placed  in  a  small 
and  simple  cabinet  adjoining  his  private  office.  He 
bore  in  public  the  imperial  robes,  but  beneath  them 
he  had  the  hair-shirt  of  a  penitent.  Ever  since  the 
tragic  death  of  one  as  dear  to  him  as  life,  he  had  sworn 
off  the  use  of  meat  and  of  wine.  His  private  table  was 
still  served  as  before  with  the  food  and  drink  of  a 
hermit;  for  he  felt  himself  in  his  own  eyes  a  monk 
upon  the  throne,  a  humble  follower  of  St.  Theodore, 
one  of  the  soldier-martyrs  of  the  faith.  On  the  first 
day  of  his  reign  he  had  admitted  to  audience  the  prel- 
ate Antony,  syncellus  (or  abbot)  of  the  great  mon- 
astery of  St.  George  of  the  Stoudion,  who  came  in  the 
name  of  the  patriarch  and  of  the  chapter  of  the  Holy 
Wisdom. 

"Most  august  Basileus,"  he  said,  after  the  formal 
compliments  and  statement  of  his  mission,  "the  vener- 
able patriarch,  the  abbot  Anastasius  of  Mount  Athos, 
and  myself  of  the  Stoudion,  have  earnestly,  but  faith- 
fully in  our  duty  to  God,  resisted  your  desire  to  enter 
our  ranks  as  a  monk,  for  we  hold  that  the  safety  of 
this  realm  requires  you  to  act  as  its  commander  in  war 
and  as  its  ruler  in  peace.  The  duties  of  a  monk  are  one ; 
the  duties  of  a  sovereign  are  other.  It  is  impossible 
to  be  both  monk  and  king.  This  palace  has  been  for 
ages  the  scene  of  royal  festivities  and  pomps.  The 
citizens  will  not  endure  to  be  deprived  of  such  holidays 
and  shows ;  and  government  of  the  realm  could  not  be 
carried  on  if  these  things  were  suddenly  suppressed. 
We  churchmen  are  the  first  to  honor  the  pious  purpose 
of  your  Majesty,  to  show  an  example  of  temperance, 

256 


Emperor   and   Patriarch 

chastity,  and  godliness  in  halls  which  have  long  been 
the  scene  of  frivolity  and  vice.  But  the  austerities  of 
a  hermit  do  not  become  a  king  and  are  prone  to  be  a 
subject  of  mockery  and  malice.  It  is  ill  wearing  a 
hair-shirt  beneath  the  mantle  of  a  Basileus  in  the 
golden  throne  -  room.  And  it  is  in  vain  to  eat  dry 
bread  and  drink  plain  water  at  a  state  banquet  in  the 
hall  of  the  nineteen  couches.  Eat,  live,  sleep  with 
temperance,  not  with  austerity — as  a  soldier,  not  as  a 
monk.  This  magnificent  palace  has  for  centuries  been 
the  court  of  an  Augusta  as  well  as  of  an  Augustus. 
It  is  to  be  feared  that  scandals  may  arise  if  it  be  given 
up  entirely  to  men,  to  courtiers,  to  soldiers,  and  their 
followers  and  lackeys." 

"Dost  thou,  indeed,  counsel  me,  holy  father,  to  take 
to  myself  the  late  regent?"  asked  Nicephorus,  with  an 
eagerness  that  was  almost  fierce. 

"God  forbid!"  replied  the  monk,  sternly.  "She  it 
is  whom  we  fear.  It  is  but  five  months  since  she  be- 
came a  widow.  And  did  not  her  widowhood  now  for- 
bid such  an  alliance,  her  youth  and  her  career  make 
it  impious  to  harbor  such  a  thought.  Most  august 
sovereign,  we  have  not  offered  to  your  Majesty  a 
suggestion  so  unworthy  of  your  inviolable  name." 

"What,  then,  is  your  meaning,  my  father?"  asked 
the  Basileus,  sternly. 

"  That  the  ex-empress,  the  widow  of  the  late  Basileus, 
must  cease  to  reside  in  the  palace  of  the  unwedded 
emperor,  to  whom  she  is  not  wife  nor  sister  nor  kins- 
woman." 

"  And  if  I  choose  that  she  shall  remain — being  mother 
to  the  infant  Basileis,"  asked  Nicephorus,  proudly, 
"who  will  say  me  nay?" 

257 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"The  people,  who  will  say  that  their  hero  has  taken 
to  himself  not  a  queen  —  but  a  mistress;  the  nobles, 
who  will  hold  that  Nicephorus  rebelled  against  his 
lawful  sovereign  in  order  to  lie  with  his  wife ;  and  the 
Church,  which  will  forbid  you  the  holy  things  as  one 
who  sets  an  example  of  evil  living  on  the  throne  of 
Rome." 

And  with  that  the  monk  left  the  presence  of  the 
sovereign,  who  stifled  his  rage,  perplexity,  and  bitter- 
ness. 

Nicephorus  controlled  himself  sufficiently  to  com- 
mission the  monk  to  repeat  the  decision  of  the  Church 
to  Theophano  in  person.  He  did  not  dare  to  brave  the 
chance  of  such  a  scandal.  Nor  did  it  suit  Theophano 
to  risk  such  an  issue.  She  formally  withdrew  from  the 
Sacred  Palace  with  all  her  retinue  and  officials,  and 
was  duly  installed  in  the  monastery  of  Petrion,  at  the 
upper  end  of  the  Golden  Horn,  in  the  quarter  now 
known  as  that  of  the  Phanar,  which  was  almost  a 
suburb  of  the  capital. 

Her  widowhood  and  seclusion  did  not  last  long. 
There  had  been  a  passionate  scene  when  the  monk  had 
insisted  on  her  leaving  the  palace,  and  Theophano 
rushed  to  Nicephorus  and  plied  him  with  tears,  blan- 
dishments, and  entreaties.  She  fell  on  his  neck  and 
adjured  him  not  to  consign  her  to  a  life  of  the  cloister. 
She  had  saved  his  life,  she  had  placed  him  on  the  throne, 
she  had  loved  him  for  years.  Her  dying  husband,  she 
swore,  had  named  his  beloved  general  to  be  his  suc- 
cessor on  his  throne  and  in  his  bed,  and  to  be  the  guar- 
dian of  his  infant  children.  As  a  stranger  to  the  family 
of  Basil,  Nicephorus  would  be  tempted  and  even  coun- 
selled to  put  the  children  away.     As  their  step-father, 

253 


Emperor  and   Patriarch 

and  husband  of  their  mother,  he  would  be  their  natural 
guardian.  Finally,  in  a  torrent  of  tears  and  passionate 
appeals,  she  refused  to  quit  the  palace  unless  Niceph- 
orus  swore  that  he  would  make  her  his  wife  at  the 
earliest  time  that  was  possible. 

The  earliest  time  came  very  soon ;  and  the  patriarch, 
however  loath,  was  obliged  to  perform  the  ceremony 
in  person.  The  customary  rites  were  gone  through, 
but  somewhat  abridged,  first,  by  the  dislike  of  Niceph- 
orus  for  all  forms  of  display,  and  then  by  the  fact 
that  Theophano  had  already  been  crowned  as  Augusta, 
and  was  only  to  be  formally  restored  to  the  high  place 
she  had  occupied  so  brilliantly  for  years.  But  the  lit- 
anies and  the  chants,  the  blessings  of  the  vestments, 
the  homage  of  the  lords  and  ladies  of  the  court  were 
by  no  means  curtailed.  When  the  ceremony  was  com- 
plete, Nicephorus  advanced  as  of  right  and  custom  to 
the  bema,  and  was  about  to  pass  through  the  icono- 
stasis,  or  screen,  to  prostrate  himself  before  the  high 
altar  within  the  chancel.  Such  was  the  right  of  the 
emperor  alone  of  laymen — a  right  which  no  man  could 
value  more  profoundly  than  the  imperial  hermit  him- 
self. 

As  the  emperor  attempted  to  enter  within  the  Holy 
of  Holies  there  confronted  him  the  patriarch  Poly- 
euctus,  with  all  his  clergy,  clad  in  vestments  of  high 
office  and  bearing  the  sacred  emblems  of  their  worship. 
The  venerable  patriarch  boldly  thrust  back  his  sovereign 
and  barred  his  progress  within.  Stretching  out  his  right 
arm,  in  a  voice  that  rang  through  the  domes  of  the 
gorgeous  church  crowded  with  courtiers  and  officials, 
Polyeuctus  cried:  "  Basileus,  whom  God  has  crowned, 
thou  shalt  not  come  within  this  holy  place.     If  thou 

259 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

dost  force  a  way  to  the  altar,  thou  wilt  incur  the 
greater  excommunication  from  all  sacred  things.  Thou 
knowest  well  the  canon  which  imposes  a  year  of  pen- 
ance upon  those  who  enter  into  a  second  marriage. 
To  that  state  of  penance  thou  hast  condemned  thy- 
self by  the  act  of  to-day  in  marrying  the  widow  of  our 
late  king.  Not  till  a  year  and  a  day  have  passed  can 
I  suffer  thee  to  enter  here  or  to  touch  with  thy  lips  the 
altar  of  Christ!" 

A  profound  silence  fell  on  the  crowded  church  as 
the  courtiers  heard  the  prelate  defy  the  sovereign  in 
the  hour  of  his  pride  and  glory.  Amazement,  awe, 
wrath  stirred  the  assembly.  For  a  full  minute  the 
Basileus  glared  at  the  priest  who  had  dared  to  inflict 
on  him  a  rebuff  such  as  the  proud  soldier  had  never  in 
his  whole  life  had  to  endure.  For  a  short  space  Ni- 
cephorus  was  speechless.  But  with  a  great  effort  he 
smothered  his  wrath  and  concealed  his  astonishment. 
"Priest,"  he  said,  firmly,  as  he  stood  his  ground,  "the 
king,  chosen  by  the  Romans,  and  crowned  by  God, 
has  the  right  by  virtue  of  his  office  to  approach  the 
altar.  Stand  back,  I  charge  thee,  ere  I  order  thy 
arrest  as  a  traitor!" 

"Basileus,"  replied  the  patriarch,  with  a  shrill  but 
clear-cut  voice,  as  his  meagre  form  seemed  to  be 
lighted  up  with  a  divine  fire  within,  "  there  is  no  king 
within  this  holy  place  but  God,  whose  servant  and 
messenger  I  am.  Advance  one  step  nearer  to  God's 
holy  altar,  and  I  pronounce  against  thee  full  sentence 
of  excommunication  from  all  rites  of  the  Church." 

The  congregation  stood  aghast,  struck  dumb,  as 
courtier  faced  priest,  soldier  confronted  monk — as 
loyalty  to  the  hero-king  struggled  against  profound 

260 


Emperor  and  Patriarch 

veneration  of  the  sacred  rites.  But  in  that  age,  and 
with  a  ruler  so  deeply  imbued  with  that  reverence  in 
its  severest  form,  the  issue  could  not  be  doubtful.  The 
emperor  mastered  his  passion  and  submitted  with 
majestic  self-control.  He  slowly  took  his  way  back 
to  the  palace  with  a  bitterness  in  his  soul  that  had 
made  him  a  new  man. 

While  this  was  going  on  in  the  church,  Theophano 
was  holding  a  high  court  to  receive  the  homage  of  the 
ladies  of  rank.  Seated  on  a  golden  throne,  attended 
by  her  eunuchs  and  dames  of  honor,  the  empress  was 
robed  in  imperial  garments  of  silk  damask  in  diaper 
pattern  adorned  with  pearls  and  rubies.  On  her  head 
was  the  diadem  with  the  triple  rows  of  pearl  pendants ; 
in  her  hand  a  jewelled  sceptre.  Nicephorus  sought  to 
assuage  the  fire  that  consumed  him  with  the  sight  of 
the  radiant  happiness  of  his  queen;  nor  would  he  suffer 
her  day  of  glory  to  be  clouded  by  any  report  of  the 
affront  that  had  been  inflicted  on  himself.  With  a 
bitter  heart  and  a  gnawing  sense  of  all  the  humiliations 
and  sacrifices  to  which  his  love  was  too  certain  to  ex- 
pose him,  he  suffered  himself  to  be  taken  through  all 
the  ceremonies  of  the  occasion,  and  the  day  was  ended 
by  a  gorgeous  banquet  of  two  hundred  and  forty 
guests  in  the  famous  triclinion,  or  hall  of  the  nine- 
teen couches.  There  Augustus  and  Augusta  sat  in 
state  beneath  the  mosaic  dome  that  covered  the 
accubiton,  or  raised  dais  of  state.  Even  there,  Niceph- 
orus had  ordered  them  to  serve  him  his  accustomed 
supper  of  oatmeal-cake,  rice,  and  herbs.  "Taste  this, 
if  you  love  me,"  whispered  Theophano,  bending  to  her 
husband  with  a  look  that  pierced  his  senses  to  the 
very  bone,  and  she  pressed  on  him  a  rich  dish  of  savory 

261 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

meat.  "Pledge  me  in  a  cup  of  Chian  wine  on  this  day 
of  our  wedlock,"  she  whispered  again,  as  the  golden 
goblet  was  handed  by  the  imperial  cup-bearer.  "In 
token  of  our  love,"  she  murmured.  That  night  Niceph- 
orus  ate  flesh  and  drank  wine,  neither  of  which  he  had 
tasted  for  many  a  long  year.  It  was  the  first  step  of 
a  new  life,  the  prelude  to  many  another  thing.  That 
night  he  violated  all  his  oaths,  and  he  knew  it:  for  in 
spite  of  himself  he  heard  the  words  ringing  in  his  ears 
— "The  woman  gave  me  to  eat,  and  I  did  eat." 

The  woman  gave  him  many  more  things  of  which 
he  had  small  desire  and  no  experience.  Theophano 
insisted  on  having  the  new  reign  inaugurated  with  an 
endless  succession  of  festivals,  games,  shows,  gifts,  and 
court  ceremonials.  Basil,  the  prime-minister,  and  Leo, 
the  curopalates,  pressed  on  the  emperor  in  council  the 
need  of  gratifying  the  people  and  nobles  by  brilliant 
displays,  in  order  to  allay  the  irritation  already  aris- 
ing from  the  rigid  economy  in  the  finances  of  the  em- 
pire. On  this  Nicephorus  had  insisted  with  a  view 
to  maintaining  the  vast  drain  of  his  eastern  army. 
He  toiled  day  and  night  with  his  military  staff  and  his 
expert  officials  in  organizing  the  armies  of  east  and 
west,  and  in  restoring  the  fleets  and  arsenals  of  the 
Mediterranean,  while  he  suffered  the  empress  and  the 
state  functionaries  to  arrange  a  series  of  public  festiv- 
ities. 

Day  after  day  the  Hippodrome  was  the  scene  of 
shows,  each  surpassing  the  last  in  novelty  and  splen- 
dor. The  familiar  and  furious  chariot-races  were  fol- 
lowed by  marvellous  displays  of  acrobats,  wrestlers, 
jugglers,  and  dancers  from  India,  Nubia,  Arabia,  or 
Syria,  clad  in  many-colored  robes  of  Oriental  fantasy, 

262 


Emperor  and   Patriarch 

with  lithe  contortionists,  rope-dancers,  pole-climbers, 
and  various  exotic  performances  which  held  the  peo- 
ple spellbound.  Then  would  be  produced  displays  of 
horsemanship,  first  by  Cossacks  and  then  by  Bedouins, 
feats  of  polo,  archery,  and  the  Arab  game  of  jerid. 
Next  advanced  troops  of  Russian  mimes  in  shaggy 
furs,  drawn  in  on  native  sleighs  with  characteristic 
sham  fights  and  uncouth  weapons.  On  another  day 
wild  beasts  from  Asia  or  Africa  were  shown  to  the 
wondering  populace,  Bactrian  camels,  leopards  held 
by  chains,  giraffes,  gazelles,  zebras,  and  even  an  ele- 
phant, a  rhinoceros,  and  a  crocodile.  At  all  these 
shows  the  new  Basileus  was  forced  to  preside  in  state, 
in  costume  of  ceremony,  and  seated  aloft  in  the 
cathisma,  whence  he  solemnly  waved  his  blessing  to 
the  people,  gave  the  signal  for  the  race  to  begin,  or 
awarded  the  prizes  to  the  charioteers  amid  the  ever- 
lasting shouts  of  the  factions:  "God  bless  and  give 
long  life  to  our  august  Basileus." 

The  religious  ceremonies  were  assuredly  not  forgot- 
ten; and  these  Nicephorus  performed  with  far  greater 
willingness  and  interest.  In  solemn  procession,  at- 
tended by  his  palace  officers  and  escorted  by  bands  of 
priests,  choristers,  and  acolytes,  the  Basileus  visited  the 
great  temples  of  the  city,  mounted  on  his  milk-white 
charger  in  gorgeous  caparison  of  state,  riding  side  by 
side  with  the  patriarch,  mounted  on  his  less  martial 
mule — symbol  of  the  union  of  State  and  Church.  He 
made  pilgrimage  in  turn  to  the  cathedral  of  the  Holy 
Wisdom,  to  the  church  of  the  Apostles,  the  old  burial- 
place  of  the  emperors,  to  such  famous  convents  as  the 
Stoudion,  or  the  Pegas,  or  to  the  venerated  shrines 
having  pictures  "not  made  with  hands,"  and  images 
18  263 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

that  were'  counted  to  effect  miraculous  cures.  Or, 
again,  he  performed,  with  a  faith  that  his  predeces- 
sors had  too  often  lacked,  some  antique  function  of 
the  imperial  ritual,  at  the  season  of  the  birth  of  Christ, 
or  that  of  the  crucifixion,  or  such  as  the  ceremonial 
bath  in  the  holy  water  of  Blachernae,  at  the  north- 
western extremity  of  the  capital.  But  no  ceremony, 
no  care  of  state,  no  toil  of  his  office,  could  turn  Ni- 
cephorus  from  the  Theophano  whom  he  had  won  for  his 
own  by  such  sacrifices  and  so  many  desperate  struggles. 
He  lavished  on  her  all  she  asked — jewels,  tapestries, 
palaces,  villas,  and  domains  —  imperial  splendor  and 
boundless  wealth. 

The  influence  of  the  empress  over  her  husband,  and 
the  change  of  life  that  was  visible  in  Nicephorus,  who 
from  an  armed  anchorite  seemed  to  be  fast  adopting 
the  habits  of  a  Byzantine  autocrat,  caused  much  search- 
ing of  heart  in  the  venerable  patriarch.  On  her  side, 
Theophano  could  never  forget,  nor  suffer  her  husband 
to  forgive,  the  deadly  stigma  which  the  Church  had 
inflicted  on  her  second  marriage. 

Polyeuctus  and  the  Basilissa  were  now  open  enemies. 
But  a  more  terrible  struggle  was  at  hand.  The  mar- 
riage festivities  were  still  in  progress  when  the  court 
chaplain,  Stylianos,  hurried  to  Polyeuctus  to  inform 
him  that  Nicephorus  had  acted  as  godfather  at  the 
private  baptism  of  the  infant  son  of  Romanus  and 
Theophano,  at  which  the  chaplain  had  officiated.  The 
patriarch  bounded  with  exultation.  "It  is  within  the 
prohibited  degrees,"  said  the  fanatic  monk,  "for  the 
godfather  to  marry  the  mother  of  his  child-in-God." 
"It  is  incestuous  by  the  canon  of  our  sixth  council, 
held  in  the  time  of  Constantine  V.,"  said  the  patriarch. 

264 


Emperor  and  Patriarch 

Polyeuctus  hastened  to  the  palace  and  insisted  on  an 
immediate  audience  with  the  Basileus.  Once  ad- 
mitted, he  bearded  the  king  with  all  the  passion  of 
his  fanatical  faith. 

"It  is  my  solemn  duty  to  inform  your  Majesty  that 
Holy  Church  declares  to  be  incestuous  the  marriage 
you  have  attempted  to  contract  with  the  mother  of 
your  child-in-God,  the  infant  Basileus.  Constantine," 
said  the  patriarch,  firmly.  "Thou  must  put  her  away 
forthwith  and  forever,  and  do  penance  for  the  incestu- 
ous union  that  has  been  begun  in  the  ignorance  of  the 
true  facts  that  the  Church  had  not  time  to  repair." 

"Put  away  her  to  whom  I  have  been  joined  by  thy 
own  act,  by  the  solemn  words — till  death  do  us  part? 
Put  away  my  wife,  dost  say,  venerable  patriarch?" 

"The  canon  of  the  sixth  council  is  precise  and  con- 
clusive," said  Polyeuctus. 

"  And  if  I  refuse  to  accept  this  fantastic  rule  of  spir- 
itual affinity?"  asked  the  Basileus. 

"It  will  be  my  painful  duty  towards  God  to  pro- 
nounce on  your  Majesty  the  most  terrible  sentence  of 
excommunication  known  to  Holy  Church,  to  forbid 
you  all  access  to  the  house  of  God,  to  the  altar  of  Christ, 
to  the  shrine  of  His  Mother — to  deprive  you  of  every 
rite  or  privilege  of  Christian  man.  Basileus  of  the 
Romans,  I  warn  thee,  thou  wilt  be  in  worse  case  than 
the  Hagarene  and  the  pagan,  who  at  least  have  some- 
thing they  believe  to  be  divine  that  they  can  adore." 

Nicephorus  was  himself  so  deeply  saturated  with 
reverence  for  the  mysteries,  and  had  so  long  been  ac- 
customed to  bow  down  before  the  piety  of  the  patriarch, 
that  he  mastered  his  emotion  on  hearing  this  tremen- 
dous sentence,  and  desired  time  to  reflect. 

265 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Venerable  patriarch  of  the  Mother  Church  of  our 
empire,  withdraw  from  our  presence.  We  will  take 
counsel  on  this  matter,"  said  the  Basileus,  with  stern 
dignity  and  wonderful  self-control. 

He  took  no  counsel  but  of  his  own  heart  in  the  storm 
of  passion  which  shook  his  soul  hour  after  hour,  upon 
this  cruel  shock  to  his  pride,  his  love,  and  his  fear  of 
God.  Long  he  paced  the  chamber,  foaming  with  rage, 
like  a  caged  lion.  As  night  fell,  he  summoned  a  trusty 
cubicular  and  bade  him  tell  the  patriarch  that  the 
emperor  would  not  part  from  the  empress  while  breath 
was  in  his  body.  Then  he  hurried  to  the  harem  of 
the  great  palace  and  flung  himself  into  the  arms  of 
his  beloved  wife — that  paradise  for  which  he  was  will- 
ing to  brave  eternal  damnation. 

The  cubicular  returned  with  the  formal  message  from 
the  patriarch  that  excommunication  would  be  pro- 
nounced in  full  conclave  on  the  following  day. 

Nicephorus  was  not  the  man  to  give  his  enemy  time 
to  attack.  By  daybreak  he  had  summoned  a  council 
of  all  the  prelates  of  the  distant  provinces  who  had 
come  up  to  the  capital  to  do  homage  to  the  new 
sovereign,  and  to  them  he  added  leading  members 
of  the  senate  and  nobles.  The  Basileus  himself  pre- 
sided; and  he  demanded  a  formal  response  to  his 
question  if  his  marriage,  solemnized  in  church  by  the 
patriarch  and  his  chapter,  were  not  an  indissoluble 
union  by  the  laws  of  God  and  man,  overriding  any 
figment  of  spiritual  affinity  contracted  by  a  mere  ritual 
form. 

The  council,  overshadowed  as  it  was  by  the  authority 
of  the  autocrat,  discussed  the  question  at  great  length 
and  with  prodigious  learning.     The  senators  and  offi- 

266 


Emperor  and   Patriarch 

cials  urged  the  assembly  to  pronounce  in  favor  of  the 
Basileus;  but  not  a  few  of  the  bishops  clung  to  the 
sacred  authority  of  a  formal  canon  of  a  general  council. 
This  seemed  to  them  imperative,  and  incapable  of  any 
dispensation  or  avoidance.  Nicephorus  with  difficulty 
suppressed  his  impatience,  fearing  that  by  the  delay 
the  patriarch  might  anticipate  him  by  a  formal  sen- 
tence. But  here  a  highly  ingenious  prelate,  the  bishop 
of  Caesarea,  a  compatriot  and  devoted  supporter  of  the 
family  of  Phocas,  arose  and  said: 

"August  Basileus  and  venerable  prelates  of  our 
holy  Church,  lords,  senators,  and  ministers  of  state, 
methinks  we  are  forgetting  the  date  and  origin  of  this 
canon  which  is  appealed  to  in  order  to  annul  the  sol- 
emn consecration  of  marriage  between  our  gracious 
autocrat  and  the  Augusta.  The  canon  in  question  was 
formally  promulgated  in  the  reign  and  by  the  authority 
of  the  ill-omened  usurper  and  enemy  of  the  Church, 
Constantine,  of  evil  name  and  infamous  memory,  as 
part  and  parcel  of  his  abominable  tyranny  and  perse- 
cution. The  canon  was  decreed  as  binding  on  the 
Church  by  those  heretics  and  miscreants  who  at- 
tempted to  suppress  the  use  of  holy  images  in  our 
worship.  Now,  it  is  known  to  all  men  that  the  acts 
of  the  iconoclasts,  whether  sovereigns  or  patriarchs, 
have  been  formally  pronounced  by  Church  and  by 
State  to  be  null  and  void  and  of  no  authority  or  effect. 
This  canon,  even  if  well  and  lawfully  approved  by  the 
Church,  has  never  been  promulgated  by  any  but  a 
sacrilegious  and  heretical  usurper  of  the  throne  of  the 
Romans.  And  I  call  on  you,  reverend  fathers  in  God, 
and  honored  lords,  to  declare  that  the  canon  is  no  bar 
to  the  lawful  and  most  religious  marriage  contracted 

267 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

by  their  Majesties  at  the  altar  of  God  and  in  presence 
of  the  reverend  patriarch  himself." 

This   speech   was  received  with   such   a  tumult   of 
approval  and  relief  by  the  imperial  party  in  the  council, 
that  Nicephorus  abruptly  declared  the  proposal  of  the 
bishop  of  Caesarea  to  be  adopted,  and  he  took  care  to 
have    it    instantly    conveyed    as    a   judgment    to   the 
patriarch.      Polyeuctus  was  not  the  man  tamely  to 
submit  to  such  an  evasion,  and  he  fiercely  inveighed 
against  an  attempt  to  set  aside  a  canon  which,  for 
two  hundred  years,  had  never  been  directly  impugned 
or  set  aside.     In  this  contention  he  was  supported  by 
his  own  chapter  of  the  Holy  Wisdom,  and  a  state  of 
indescribable  excitement  arose  in  the  Church  and  in  the 
city,  as  a  conflict  seemed  imminent  between  the  metro- 
politan,  supported  by  his    clergy,   and   the    emperor, 
supported  by  the  senate  and  provincial  prelates.     For 
a  whole  day  the  storm  raged  round  Church  and  palace, 
and  men  feared  that  the  horrible  scandals  were  about 
to  be  renewed  as  in  the  old  days  of  the  image-breakers, 
when  the  Church  and  all  those,  both  clerical  and  lay, 
who  clung  to  the  patriarch,  defied  the  iconoclast  em- 
perors and  their  court,  and  endured  cruel  persecution 
in  defence  of  their  holy  and  ever-to-be-venerated  ikons. 
In  the  midst  of  this  confusion  the   court   chaplain, 
Stylianos,  unwilling  to  suffer  disgrace  and  exile,  and 
hopeful,  perhaps,  of  future  promotion,  bethought  him 
that  in  the  ceremony  of  baptism,  which  had  been  hur- 
riedly and  privately  performed  owing  to  the  precarious 
health  of  the  new-born  infant,  Nicephorus  had  simply 
been  present  as  representing  his  aged  father,  Bardas, 
who  was  the  true  sponsor  of  the  infant  prince.     Ni- 
cephorus remembered  that  such  had  been  the  intention, 

268 


Emperor  and    Patriarch 

but  what  passed  in  the  haste  of  the  impromptu  cere- 
mony had  escaped  his  memory.  And  Bardas,  when 
appealed  to,  called  to  mind  that  Romanus,  the  auto- 
crat, had  sent  him  a  summons  to  attend  the  cere- 
mony, which  his  age  and  infirmities  had  prevented  him 
from  doing  at  the  time.  Polyeuctus  was  persuaded 
by  the  prime  -  minister  Basil,  by  Stylianos  the  chap- 
lain, and  even  by  the  monk  Athanasius,  to  accept  this 
solution  of  the  imbroglio,  on  condition  that  Nicephorus 
himself  should  swear  on  the  relics  of  St.  Theodore  that 
he  had  attended  the  ceremony  of  baptism  as  his  fa- 
ther's proctor,  and  that  Bardas  also  should  swear  on 
the  relics  that  he  had  been  summoned  as  real  sponsor 
of  the  prince.  This  was  done  in  presence  of  the  pa- 
triarch, who,  thereupon  admitting  on  sworn  testimony 
that  no  spiritual  affinity,  in  fact,  existed  between 
Nicephorus  and  Theophano,  consented  to  withhold  his 
terrible  ban.  With  a  mind  full  of  foreboding,  he 
recognized  the  imperial  marriage  as  valid,  though 
nothing  could  induce  his  stern  and  devout  nature  to 
relieve  the  emperor  from  the  penance  of  being  for- 
bidden to  enter  the  holy  place  of  the  temple  till  a  year 
had  passed  after  contracting  a  second  marriage  with 
one  who  had  so  lately  been  the  wife  of  another. 

The  storm  passed,  and  the  open  breach  between 
empire  and  Church  was  avoided,  or,  at  best,  postponed. 
But  Nicephorus  to  his  dying  day  remembered  the 
public  stigma  which  had  been  passed  on  the  marriage 
for  which  he  had  sacrificed  so  much ;  and  the  patriarch, 
with  gloomy  misgivings,  looked  forward  in  pain  to 
the  issues  of  a  reign  which  he  had  done  so  much  to 
promote,  but  which  had  opened  with  such  sinister  omens 
in  the  house  of  God  and  in  the  eyes  of  Holy  Church. 

269 


XIX 
The  Saracen   Peril 

THE  emperor  now  applied  his  whole  mind  to  affairs 
of  state  with  all  the  burning  energy  of  his  nature ; 
and  he  sat  day  by  day  with  his  chosen  officers  in  secret 
council,  dictating  orders  to  his  proto-secretis.  Though 
he  submitted  with  the  best  grace  he  could  command 
to  the  public  ceremonials  and  pilgrimages  which  policy 
and  the  traditions  of  his  office  required  him  to  perform 
in  person,  his  absorbing  task  was  the  organization  of 
his  army,  the  navy,  the  finances,  and  the  imperial  ad- 
ministration. And,  though  the  wound  so  ostentatious- 
ly inflicted  at  once  on  his  pride  and  his  love  by  the 
fanaticism  of  the  patriarch  lay  deep  in  his  mind  as  an 
open  sore,  he  remained  unshaken  in  his  devotion  to 
Holy  Church,  and  in  profound  regard  for  the  hermit  of 
Mount  Athos. 

The  very  day  after  this  fierce  struggle,  Nicephorus 
was  closeted  with  Digenes,  and  was  imparting  to  him 
his  great  schemes  for  the  restoration  of  the  Roman 
name. 

"From  the  time  of  our  mighty  predecessor,  Hera- 
clius,"  said  he,  "for  more  than  three  hundred  years,  the 
children  of  the  False  Prophet  have  been  gaining,  step 
by  step,  upon  the  children  of  Christ.  A  few  genera- 
tions more  and  they  will  have  blotted  out  the  Church 

270 


The  Saracen   Peril 

of  God  and  His  Mother.  The  prophet  of  the  Lord  may 
well  say  to  the  Hagarene,  'Hast  thou  killed  and  also 
hast  thou  taken  possession?'" 

"Nay,"  interrupted  the  ardent  young  warden,  "such 
victories  as  those  of  thy  father  Bardas,  of  thy  grand- 
fathers and  kinsmen  of  Armenia,  and,  above  all,  thy 
own  most  glorious  achievements  in  Crete  and  in  Syria, 
in  Cilicia  and  Aleppo,  bear  witness  that  Christ  will  not 
forsake  His  people  forever,  and  that  the  days  of  glory 
of  the  Prophet  are  no  more." 

"We  beat  them  back  time  and  again,  and  the  tide 
has  turned  on  our  side  within  the  last  indiction.  But 
as  I  look  back  over  these  centuries  stained  with  all  the 
savage  tyranny  of  the  image-breakers,  and  the  follies 
of  our  Isaurians,  Amorians,  Arabians,  and  Khazars  on 
the  throne,  Michael  'the  Monk,'  Michael  'the  Stam- 
merer,' and  Michael  'the  Drunkard,'  I  see  that  the 
Crescent  is  steadily  driving  back  the  Cross.  One  or 
other  will  assuredly  perish  in  the  long  combat  at  last." 

"At  what  point  will  you  strike  them  first?"  asked 
Digenes,  abruptly. 

"The  power  of  the  great  Asian  caliphate  has  been 
weakened  by  rivalries,  rebellions,  and  divisions,  but 
it  is  by  no  means  broken.  The  accursed  Chamdas 
snake  is  scotched,  but  not  killed.  The  Hamdanite 
family  is  still  as  active  and  fierce  as  ever.  Aleppo, 
Antioch,  Edessa,  obey  their  victorious  emirs,  and  per- 
secute our  believers.  While  Syria,  with  all  its  cities  and 
resources,  is  a  stronghold  of  the  Hagarene  dynasty,  our 
eastern  themes  are  ever  open  to  their  cruel  raids  and 
devastating  incursions.  I  tell  thee,  my  son,  my  first 
and  greatest  task  is  to  crush  the  Chamdas,  who  seems 
to  rise  ever  stronger  after  every  defeat." 

271 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Seif  Eddauleh!  a  hero  worthy  even  of  your  sword," 
said  the  warden. 

"  Hero  it  may  be,  but  a  deadly  enemy  of  Christ  and 
His  people,"  said  Nicephorus.  "He  or  I  must  fall  in 
this  death-grapple.  My  officers  are  now  mustering 
upon  the  Anatolian  frontier  the  most  numerous  army, 
and  the  best  equipped,  that  Rome  has  sent  forth  since 
the  time  of  Heraclius.  The  moment  it  is  ready,  I  shall 
put  myself  at  its  head  and  march  upon  Syria,  into  which 
we  shall  pour  as  we  did  when  we  swept  back  the  Cham- 
das  into  his  rock-bound  citadel  as  a  hunted  lion  is 
driven  to  his  pathless  lair." 

"Will  it  be  Aleppo,  Antioch,  or  Edessa,  that  you 
strike  first?"  asked  Digenes,  eagerly. 

"  God  in  heaven  knows,  my  son,"  replied  the  general, 
solemnly,  with  a  touch  of  irony  in  his  voice,  "and  we 
shall  all  know  in  His  good  time." 

"But  you  will  not  leave  to  the  Prophet  the  Holy 
Land  of  Abraham,  of  David,  and  Christ  Himself? 
Have  you  no  care  for  Damascus,  Beyruth,  and  Jeru- 
salem?— the  tombs  of  the  holy  ones  and  the  scene  of 
the  birth  and  death  of  the  Lord  Himself?" 

"Be  not  too  eager,  my  son.  How  are  we  to  reach 
these  holy  places,  lost  to  Christ  all  these  hundreds  of 
years,  until  we  have  driven  the  Hagarene  swarms  from 
the  passes  of  the  Amanus  and  the  Libanon?  Assuredly 
Jerusalem  and  Bethlehem  are  our  ultimate  goal  which 
the  Cross  shall  one  day  enter,  though  it  is  a  sight  that 
I  shall  never  live  to  see;  no,  nor  your  son's  son.  But 
there  is  that  which  to  a  soldier,  if  not  to  a  priest,  is 
more  sacred  than  the  manger  of  Bethlehem  or  the  hill 
of  Calvary,  and  that  is  the  rescuing  from  the  dungeons, 
and  harems,  and  slave-markets  of  the  infidel  the  men 

272 


The   Saracen   Peril 

and  women,  girls  and  children,  of  our  Christian  people. 
There  is  a  care  more  urgent  on  an  emperor  of  Rome 
than  the  recovery  of  any  relic  or  any  place  of  pilgrim- 
age, and  that  is  the  safety  and  enlargement  of  the 
Roman  realm." 

"There  are  victorious  realms  of  Islam  to  the  south: 
in  Africa,  in  Egypt,  and  in  Tunis,"  said  the  warden, 
sadly;  "and  these  last  are  pressing  even  to  death  and 
slavery  the  last  remnant  of  the  Christian  defenders  of 
Sicily,  to  say  nothing  of  Spain,  where  you  sent  me  of 
late  to  the  splendid  kingdom  of  the  caliph  of  the 
west." 

"Yes,  our  brethren  in  Sicily  are  in  great  danger  of 
destruction,  and  I  am  preparing  another  great  army 
and  another  fleet  to  relieve  and  succor  them.  This 
indeed  will  be  despatched  before  another  moon,  and 
will  take  precedence  even  of  my  own  campaign." 

"And  will  the  Catholic  sovereigns  of  Alemaine,  who 
have  annexed  so  much  of  the  Italian  dominions,  do 
nothing  to  save  their  fellow-Christians  in  Sicily  in  the 
hour  of  their  distress?"  asked  Digenes. 

"Nothing,"  said  the  emperor,  fiercely,  "nay,  worse 
than  nothing.  These  Saxon  barbarians  beyond  the 
Danube  aim  at  the  destruction  of  our  holy  Roman  em- 
pire, of  which  they  usurp  the  titles,  and  copy  the  prac- 
tices and  institutions.  It  will  be  a  black  day  for  the 
city  and  throne  of  Constantine  when  Frank  and  Latin 
marauders  shall  dare  to  assail  them  in  force.  They 
talk  still  of  alliances,  exchange  of  courtesies,  and  even 
of  intermarriage;  but  they  mean  in  their  hearts  rivalry, 
treachery,  and  war.  They  are  biding  their  time  till 
they  can  blot  out  the  Byzantine  name  and  Church." 

"And  the  bishop  of  old  Rome  on  the  Tiber,  who  calls 
273 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

himself  Pope,  and  supreme  head  of  Christ's  Church, 
will  not  he  intercede  for  the  suffering  remnant  of  the 
Christians  of  Sicily?"  asked  Digenes. 

"What,  he!"  broke  forth  Nicephorus,  passionately. 
"The  son  of  the  old  harlot,  the  bandit,  the  assassin, 
the  catamite,  who  pollutes  that  Vatican  cloister  which 
is  now  a  brothel  and  a  gamester's  hell!  The  Catholic 
Church  is  the  deadly  rival  and  foe  of  our  Orthodox 
Church.  It  is  ever  plotting  our  ruin  and  inciting  its 
royal  patrons  to  destroy  us.  It  is  more  deadly  than 
either  Saracen  or  Saxon.  They  indeed  may  end  in 
working  our  ruin.  But  the  Catholic  Church,  while 
ever  working  to  our  ruin,  is  ever  bearing  false  witness 
to  vilify,  calumniate,  and  ridicule  all  we  have  and  all 
we  do  in  Church  or  in  State,  in  war  or  in  peace.  We 
stand  on  the  Bosphorus  between  two  sleepless  enemies 
— fierce  unbelievers  on  the  east,  and  traitors  to  Christ 
in  the  west.  And  we  who  have  defended  the  Roman 
name  and  the  Christian  faith  for  three  hundred  years 
against  the  onslaught  of  Islam,  we,  the  bulwark  of 
Christ  and  the  Mother  of  God,  we  are  ever  being  assailed 
by  the  masters  of  the  Latin  provinces ;  and  forever  we 
are  being  maligned  by  the  degraded  prelacy  which  has 
usurped  the  tomb  and  see  of  St.  Peter.  No,  my  son, 
the  Romans  of  the  east  had  better  invoke  the  aid  of 
Satan,  Moloch,  or  Beelzebub,  the  father  of  lies,  before 
they  trust  the  words  of  a  Latin  priest." 

"But  on  the  north  we  have  dangerous  enemies  as 
well,  and  even  more  near  to  us  —  Bulgarians,  Slavs, 
Huns,  Patzinaks,  and  Russ.  They  have  ere  now  swept 
down  on  Byzantium  like  a  winter  snow-storm  from  the 
Euxine,  and  they  may  sweep  down  again.  Have  you 
given  thought  to  them,  sir?"  asked  Digenes. 

274 


The  Saracen  Peril 

"Much  thought,  my  son,"  replied  the  emperor, 
"but  though  they  are  nearer  than  Saracen  or  Latin, 
they  are  quite  disunited,  and  full  of  fierce  rivalries, 
jealousies,  and  ambitions.  If  one  is  our  enemy,  it 
makes  the  rest  our  friends.  When  the  Bulgarian  be- 
comes dangerous,  we  will  hire  the  Turk  or  the  Russ  to 
fall  upon  his  back.  The  whole  Balkan  peninsula  is  a 
den  of  savage  beasts,  who  are  ever  snarling  at  each 
other,  and  waiting  to  spring  on  each  other  unawares. 
If  they  could  only  agree  for  an  hour,  they  would  join 
in  a  combined  attack  upon  us;  and  their  vast  hordes 
and  limitless  cavalry  might  make  them  a  formidable 
foe  to  beat.  But  we  will  take  them  one  by  one  and 
swallow  them  at  leisure,  as  one  eats  the  leaves  of  an 
artichoke.  Before  the  Bulgarian  can  move,  we  will 
take  care  to  have  the  Russ  upon  his  back.  I  can  hear 
in  my  day-dreams  the  roar  of  our  people  in  the  Hippo- 
drome on  the  day  when  a  Basileus  of  New  Rome  shall 
be  hailed  on  his  victories  over  the  northern  realm  of 
Crumn  and  of  Symeon  as  'the  victorious  lord,'  'the 
slaughterer  of  the  Bulgarians,' "  said  the  emperor,  with 
prophetic  fervor  deepening  his  voice. 

' '  And  the  Russ  of  Kiev  and  the  coasts  of  the  Euxine 
and  the  Chersonesus?"  asked  Digenes,  "are  they  not 
within  your  plans?" 

"The  Russ  and  Patzinaks  who  swarm  along  the 
northern  rivers  which  flow  into  the  Euxine  are  too  far 
off  us,  too  restless  and  nomad,  and  altogether  too 
loosely  organized  as  settled  nations  to  endanger  the 
Roman  empire,"  said  Nicephorus,  proudly.  "The 
Russ  make  fine  guardsmen  for  us,  and  are  willing  to  do 
our  service  for  proper  reward  at  any  time.  We  will 
civilize  and  Christianize  them  and  teach  them  to  keep 

275 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Bulgarians  and  Turks  in  order.  Ah,"  he  went  on, 
musing  with  something  of  prophetic  strain,  "Byzan- 
tium may  fall  before  the  infidels  of  the  east — nay,  even 
before  the  schismatic  Latins  of  the  west — but  before 
the  northern  barbarians  never!  If  they  strove  for  a 
thousand  years  these  Varangians  shall  never  seat  their 
czars  upon  the  Golden  Horn." 

"Then  wherein  lie  the  great  dangers  of  the  empire?" 
asked  the  lord  warden. 

"  In  the  corruption  of  officials,  in  malversation  of  the 
finances,  and  in  the  womanish  spirit  of  the  people  of 
the  great  cities  of  the  Greek  peninsula.  The  mongrel 
mobs  which  fill  our  Forum  and  Hippodrome  here  in 
Byzantium,  the  Hellenes  of  the  Peloponnese  and  the 
JEgean  islands  and  seaboard,  are  good  only  to  tax — or 
to  row  ships — not  to  bear  arms  and  defend  their  coun- 
try. Happily  we  can  fill  our  armies  with  good  men 
and  true  from  the  highlands  of  Thrace,  Epirus,  and 
Macedonia,  from  the  plains  and  hills  of  Asia  Minor,  and 
from  all  the  wild  tribesmen  who  swarm  in  the  frontier 
themes  of  the  empire." 

"Where  then  is  the  difficulty,  if  there  are  men  enough 
and  men  good  enough  ?  For  I  ask  for  none  better  than 
the  troopers  I  have  led  in  Cilicia,  Crete,  and  Syria," 
said  Digenes. 

"The  enormous  efforts  we  have  to  make  against  a 
circle  of  foes,  the  vast  armies  and  fleets  we  need  to 
raise — to  say  nothing  of  the  subsidies  we  have  to  offer 
to  barbarian  tributaries — absorb  immense  sums  which 
drain  the  wealth  even  of  this,  the  richest  empire  of  the 
world.  Our  immediate  need  is  strict  administration  of 
the  finances.  Thrift!  thrift!  my  son,  is  the  first  of  du- 
ties to  a  king,  even  while  gold  is  poured  forth  like  water 

276 


The  Saracen  Peril 

from  the  imperial  exchequer,  but  so  that  all  serves  to 
purchase  money's  worth  and  solid  results.  Victories 
are  won  and  conquests  are  made — not  alone  by  stout 
hearts  and  strong  arms — but  by  honest  handling  of 
unlimited  wealth." 

"And  is  not  the  Roman  empire  wealthy?"  asked  the 
lord  warden. 

"But  not  wealthy  enough  for  all  its  needs,"  the  em- 
peror rejoined,  with  passion,  "while  half  its  lands  are 
held  by  lazy  priests  and  monks,  who  neither  serve  in 
arms  nor  pay  their  taxes,  while  half  the  people  of  the 
luxurious  cities  of  old  Hellas  wear  the  cowl  or  the  stole. 
Half  monk  as  I  am  myself,  and  monk  and  hermit  as  I 
have  striven  in  vain  to  be,  my  very  first  care  will  be  to 
curb  this  dry-rot  in  our  people,  this  flinging  away  in 
idle  monasteries  of  the  precious  wealth  of  the  empire, 
this  consecration  to  hypocritical  sloth  of  so  large  a  part 
of  our  people.  It  is  not  God  they  worship,  but  some 
heathen  idol — some  sacred  hog — as  the  apostle  himself 
says,  'evil  beasts,  slow  bellies.'" 

But  here  the  colloquy  was  interrupted  by  a  messen- 
ger from  Basil,  the  prime-minister,  craving  immediate 
audience  on  urgent  matters  of  state.  Nicephorus  re- 
ceived him  alone  in  private. 

The  great  eunuch  had  hurried  to  the  palace  to  in- 
form the  emperor  of  the  receipt  of  grave  news  from 
Sicily,  and  the  arrival  of  envoys  from  the  distressed 
Christians  of  Messina,  who  came  to  implore  immediate 
help. 

One  of  the  first  acts  of  Nicephorus,  after  his  victori- 
ous campaigns  over  the  Saracens  of  the  eastern  caliph- 
ate, had  been  to  denounce  the  treaty  of  peace  made  in 
a  time  of  weakness  with  the  Saracens  of  Africa,  who 

277 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

were  now'masters  of  Sicily.  He  had  insisted  on  refus- 
ing further  payment  of  the  eleven  thousand  pieces  of 
gold  with  which  the  governor  of  Calabria  had  sought 
to  buy  off  Saracen  invasions.  Thereupon  the  Fatimite 
Caliph  Mouizz  of  Tunis  ordered  an  immediate  invest- 
ment of  Rametta  near  Messina,  which  was  the  sole 
remaining  hold  of  the  Christian  power  in  the  island. 
In  Rametta,  a  rocky  fortress  in  the  mountains  west 
of  Messina,  the  last  defenders  of  the  Cross  had  taken 
refuge,  and  with  them  were  all  that  had  escaped  the 
destruction  of  the  cities  of  Sicily. 

"The  news  is  indeed  grave,"  said  the  prime-minister; 
"no  spot  in  all  Sicily  remained  to  us  after  the  terrible 
storming  of  Taormina  and  the  loss  of  Messina,  except 
this  fortress  of  Rametta,  which  is  now  closely  invested. 
In  Italy  the  empire  holds  effective  possession  of  little 
but  the  themes  of  Calabria  and  Apulia  on  the  southern 
and  eastern  seaboards.  If  we  lose  all  territory  west  of 
the  Dyrrhachian  coast  and  the  Hellenic  islands,  the 
name  of  Rome  will  be  brought  low  indeed,  and  all 
western  Europe  will  be  divided  between  the  Saracen 
and  the  Teuton." 

"True,"  said  the  emperor,  "it  is  our  first  duty  to 
save  the  brave  outpost  at  Rametta,  and  the  expedition 
already  being  fitted  out  must  be  pushed  on  night  and 
day  with  special  haste.  See  to  it,  my  lord,  the  van- 
guard with  a  hundred  ships  and  ten  thousand  men  will 
sail  from  the  Golden  Horn  on  the  third  day  from  to- 
night." 

"It  is  impossible,  sire,"  replied  Basil,  after  making 
some  brief  calculations  in  his  note-book. 

"Nothing  is  impossible,"  said  Nicephorus,  "it  will 
be  done.     And  send  to-night  our  swiftest  despatch- 

278 


The  Saracen    Peril 

boats  with  orders  to  the  governors  of  the  Pelopon- 
nesian  theme,  of  Bari,  and  of  the  Calabrian  theme, 
to  meet  the  new  force  with  every  man  and  every  ship 
they  can  spare  with  safety." 

"They  shall  sail  within  an  hour,"  said  Basil,  "and 
whom  do  you  destine  to  command  the  expedition?" 

"I  have  already  commissioned  Basil  Digenes  to  the 
task,  to  take  up  command  when  the  entire  armament 
is  ready  to  start.  But  things  are  so  urgent  in  Sicily 
that  it  might  be  best  to  send  him  with  the  advance 
force  which  is  to  go  at  once.  His  heroic  and  dashing 
temper  will  fire  the  whole  army  he  is  to  lead." 

"  He  is  sorely  needed  still  in  the  city  to  organize  the 
expedition  in  all  its  details.  We  are  sending  out  the 
biggest  men-of-war  that  have  ever  left  our  docks,  with 
every  munition  and  engine  of  war  that  our  engineers 
can  devise.  We  have  equipped  more  than  forty  thou- 
sand of  our  best  men,  of  whom  nearly  half  are  cavalry." 

"Remember,  that  in  this  crisis  speed  is  of  more  im- 
portance than  numbers,  and  dash  is  more  needed  than 
strategy,"  said  the  emperor. 

"With  such  a  foe,  rashness  would  be  fatal,"  replied 
the  minister,  gloomily,  "but  I  go  to  carry  out  your 
Majesty's  orders,"  said  Basil,  hesitating. 

"They  are  my  last  words,"  replied  Nicephorus,  per- 
emptorily, as  he  closed  the  interview.  "I  have  ar- 
dently desired  to  command  this  expedition  to  Sicily  in 
person.  But  it  cannot  be.  The  vast  and  growing 
power  of  the  Saracens  of  the  east,  on  our  Syrian  and 
Cilician  borders,  is  even  more  menacing  and  more  urgent 
than  the  rescue  of  the  brave  Sicilian  garrison  in  the 
west.  It  is  a  matter  of  myriads  in  the  east  rather  than 
hundreds  in  the  west — the  loss  of  a  rich  province,  not 


19 


279 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

of  a  fortress.  I  must  reserve  myself  at  home  to  or- 
ganize the  armament  for  Asia  until  I  go  to  lead  it 
myself." 

As  the  minister  withdrew,  Theophano  herself  en- 
tered the  emperor's  cabinet.  The  stern  and  anxious 
look  which  his  face  had  worn  during  the  conversations 
with  Digenes  and  Basil  on  the  crisis  of  the  state  passed 
off  like  a  summer  storm-cloud  as  the  form  of  his  adored 
wife  appeared.  He  started  from  his  seat,  rose,  and 
went  to  meet  her  with  arms  outstretched.  He  took 
both  her  white  hands  in  his  huge  grasp,  drew  her  tow- 
ards him,  and  looked  with  love  and  inquiry  into  her 
eyes. 

"And  what  would  my  queen  have?"  he  asked.  "All 
that  I  have  is  hers — all  that  I  can  win  shall  be  hers." 

She  fondled  him  and  patted  his  cheek,  piercing  him 
with  her  radiant  eyes,  and  said:  "Does  my  hero  think 
I  come  to  ask  for  jewels,  palaces,  or  provinces,  or  any 
woman's  toy?  I  am  the  helpmate  of  my  lord,  the 
Basileus.  Together  we  mounted  to  the  throne  of 
Rome,  and  together  we  will  raise  its  eternal  name  to  a 
higher  glory.  I  come  not  to  ask  for  gewgaws,  but  to 
take  counsel  on  affairs  of  state." 

"You  have  heard  the  black  news  from  the  far  west?" 
asked  Nicephorus. 

"I  have.  And  I  come  to  say  that  the  emperor 
must  not  be  tempted  to  go  to  the  succor  of  this  dis- 
tant fort;  he  has  his  great  expedition  into  Syria  to 
prepare.  He  must  not  desert  his  capital,  his  army  of 
the  east,  his  council  of  ministers — his  wife — her  from 
whom  these  priests  seek  to  part  him." 

"Your  wishes  and  your  counsels  exactly  jump  with 
my  own,  my  empress,"  said  Nicephorus,  smiling  and 

280 


The  Saracen    Peril 

joyful.  "  I  have  work  here  more  urgent  even  than  the 
relief  of  Rametta.  My  place  will  be  well  filled  by  the 
akritas  Basil  Digenes,  whom  I  have  decided  to  de- 
spatch at  once  with  the  advanced  force." 

"Surely  not,"  replied  the  Augusta;  "Basil  Digenes 
is  an  honorable  man  and  a  noble  soldier,  but  his  mar- 
riage to  the  Princess  Agatha  will  make  him  a  prince  of 
the  Basilian  dynasty,  uncle  of  my  sons,  an  inevitable 
rival  to  them,  a  possible  rebel  to  yourself." 

"Digenes  is  the  soul  of  honor,"  said  Nicephorus, 
warmly;  "I  would  trust  him  with  my  life.  I  would 
trust  him  as  I  trust  my  God — as  I  trust  you,  the  saint 
of  my  prayers." 

"He  seems  to  be  even  better  trusted — better  loved," 
she  said,  with  a  bewitching  air  of  jealousy.  Theoph- 
ano  continued  to  pout.     Silence  ensued. 

"My  hero  of  the  eastern  wars  little  knows  the  quick- 
sands and  whirlpools  of  our  Bosphorus,  and  all  the 
intrigues  of  this  palace  and  court  and  people.  A  suc- 
cessful soldier,  after  a  great  triumph  over  the  Saracen, 
will  find  himself  forced  into  the  vermilion  buskins  by 
the  shouts  of  the  people  and  the  swords  of  his  men,  and 
driven  to  head  a  palace  revolution,  however  much  he 
struggle  against  it  himself.  Is  it  not  so,  my  Lord 
Basileus,  who  dethroned  me  and  my  sons,  however 
much  he  sought  to  bury  his  glory  in  a  cell  on  Mount 
Athos?"  And  the  woman  shot  forth  alternate  beams 
of  reproach  and  admiration,  irony  and  love. 

Nicephorus  felt  himself  in  a  world  of  intrigue  that  he 
could  not  understand,  which  he  despised  but  could  not 
master.     He  remained  silent  and  in  deep  meditation. 

"You  must  name  for  this  office,"  she  said,  "members 
of  your  own  family  and  close  allies  of  yourself." 

281 


Theophano :  The   Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Whom  have  I?"  said  he,  sadly.  "I  have  no  kins- 
man competent  whom  I  can  spare.  I  have  no  creatures 
of  my  own.     I  never  had,  I  never  will  have." 

"Nay,"  said  she  at  once,  "you  have  a  cousin,  one  of 
the  bravest  and  most  dashing  soldiers  of  Rome,  the 
patrician  Manuel,  son,  at  any  rate  in  blood,  of  your 
uncle  Leo  Phocas,  of  him  whom  the  usurper  Lecapenus 
treacherously  seized  and  blinded  forty  years  ago. 
Manuel  is  bound  to  the  house  of  Phocas  forever;  his 
bar-sinister  makes  any  rivalry  impossible.  He  is  a 
man  of  the  most  fiery  nature,  one  whom  the  soldiers 
love  to  follow." 

"Too  fiery,  perhaps,"  said  Nicephorus,  musing;  "but 
the  crisis  demands  the  most  reckless  valor." 

"Then  put  him  in  charge  of  the  vanguard,  and  let 
the  general  command  be  reserved  for  Nicetas,  one  of  our 
protovestiaries,  and  brother  of  Michael,  who  served  us 
so  often  as  messenger." 

"What!  The  eunuch  Nicetas?"  said  Nicephorus — 
"a  man  of  hearty  piety  and  profound  learning,  but 
hardly  fit  to  lead  a  forlorn  hope." 

"No;  Manuel  will  lead  the  charge,"  said  Theophano. 
"No  captain  in  your  whole  army  a  more  desperate  fire- 
eater,  and  Nicetas  with  his  wisdom  and  coolness  will 
keep  the  hot  blood  of  Manuel  in  restraint." 

"I  will  think  of  it,"  said  the  emperor,  who  himself 
had  often  been  inspired  by  the  wild  courage  of  his 
young  kinsman — "I  will  consider  what  you  urge." 

" No,"  said  the  temptress.  "Promise me  this,  if  you 
love  me." 

Nicephorus  did  not  promise ;  but  in  the  end  he  com- 
mitted the  great  expedition  to  his  cousin  Manuel  as 
cavalry  leader,  with  Nicetas  as  admiral  of  the  fleet; 

282 


The  Saracen   Peril 

and  to  them  he  added  a  prelate,  Nicephorus,  one  of  the 
ablest  administrators  in  the  empire. 

The  issue  was  a  terrible  disaster.  The  expedition 
was  hurried  to  the  Sicilian  waters,  where  the  unenter- 
prising Nicetas  wasted  it  in  petty  divisions  round  the 
coast.  Manuel  forced  his  cavalry  across  the  straits 
of  Messina,  and  captured  that  city.  He  dashed  down 
along  the  coast,  recovering  Taormina,  Leontini,  Ter- 
mini, and  Syracuse.  Then,  mad  with  triumph,  and  not 
waiting  for  the  whole  of  the  force  to  join  him,  he  rushed 
to  the  rescue  of  Rametta.  As  the  morning  sun  rose,  he 
could  see  the  rocky  citadel  still  uncaptured,  as  it  stood 
proudly  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  amphitheatre  of  precip- 
itous crags.  The  three  defiles  which  led  into  the  plain 
were  forced  one  by  one  by  the  impetuous  charges  of  the 
Byzantines;  and  thence  Manuel,  intoxicated  with  vic- 
tory, plunged  on  to  the  walls  of  the  beleaguered  city. 
Here  he  was  met  by  the  Saracen  general  in  person,  who 
had  gathered  round  him  his  reserve — a  band  of  swarthy 
sons  of  the  desert  in  snow-white  tunics,  wielding  lances 
and  swords  of  perfect  temper.  A  desperate  hand-to- 
hand  combat  ensued  wherein  Manuel  fell  in  the  midst 
of  a  mingled  heap  of  Africans  and  Byzantines.  The 
loss  of  their  hot-headed  chief  threw  the  whole  cavalry 
into  confusion,  for  their  leader,  instead  of  keeping  them 
in  hand  and  directing  their  movements,  had  scattered 
them  far  and  wide  over  the  plain.  Confusion  turned 
to  panic  —  panic  became  a  massacre.  As  night  fell, 
ten  thousand  Byzantines  lay  on  the  bloody  field,  for  the 
Saracens  made  no  prisoners.  The  relieving  expedition 
was  repulsed,  the  captured  cities  were  retaken,  Ramet- 
ta fell,  and  a  dark  cloud  rested  on  the  reign  of  the 
new  emperor:  his  grievous  error  sank  into  his  soul. 

283 


XX 

An  Emperor's  Day 

DAY  after  day  the  emperor  rose  at  dawn,  and  with 
his  staff  rode  forth  to  the  strategion,  the  great  re- 
view ground  of  the  city — the  Campus  Martius  of  New 
Rome — to  exercise  troops  newly  arrived  as  contingents 
for  the  army  of  the  east.  The  day  after  the  sailing  of 
the  Sicilian  expedition  (destined  to  end  as  ill  as  another 
famous  Sicilian  expedition),  there  was  a  lively  stir  in 
the  palace  to  witness  the  manoeuvres  of  a  division  of 
five  thousand  horsemen  recently  arrived  from  the 
upper  Danube — Magyars  as  we  call  them,  Turks  as 
they  were  then  named — a  tribe  which  had  been  ad- 
mitted to  settle  within  the  limits  of  the  empire. 

Basil  Digenes,  Bardas  Skleros,  with  our  young  friend 
Eric  still  at  his  side,  and  a  crowd  of  officers  rode  into 
the  ground  on  the  staff  of  the  emperor.  The  strategion, 
or  review-ground,  stood  on  the  low  land  to  the  west  of 
the  modern  "Seraglio,"  close  to  the  Golden  Horn,  be- 
tween the  Stamboul  end  of  the  floating  bridge  and  the 
present  railway  terminus.  Bardas  called  Eric's  at- 
tention to  the  typical  monuments  with  which  it  was 
adorned — the  equestrian  statue  of  Constantine  the 
Great,  and  the  pillar  bearing  the  imperial  edict,  where- 
by New  Rome  had  been  endowed  with  the  name  and 
privileges  of  the  city  of  the  Tiber. 

284 


An   Emperor's  Day 

"Six  hundred  and  thirty  years  have  passed,"  said 
the  general  to  his  young  follower,  "since  our  immortal 
founder  placed  us  here  on  this  Golden  Horn  beneath 
the  new  Seven  Hills,  and  more  than  a  thousand  years 
had  passed  before  he  moved  Rome  from  the  Tiber  to 
the  Bosphorus.  These  various  subject  tribes,  allies, 
and  tributaries,  whose  arms  and  ensigns  cover  this  great 
plain  to-day,  change  and  pass,  form  new  nations,  and 
go  from  one  seat  to  another;  but  Rome  exists  forever. 
In  one  thousand  seven  hundred  years  she  has  never 
met  her  conqueror,  nor  even  her  match." 

Eric's  history  was  far  too  slight  and  vague  to  enable 
him  to  follow  this  bold  boast,  much  less  to  dispute  it; 
but,  where  all  was  wonderful  and  gigantic,  he  accepted 
the  antiquity  of  the  city  with  awe.  His  mind  was 
wholly  occupied  with  the  martial  sight  spread  out  be- 
fore him.  In  front  of  headquarters,  where  stood  what 
we  now  call  "the  saluting-point,"  was  stationed  a  de- 
tachment of  the  Varangian  guard,  who  to-day  were 
told  off  as  an  escort  to  the  general,  to  keep  the  ground 
and  mark  the  lines.  Opposite  to  them,  at  the  farther 
limit  of  the  ground,  was  the  position  of  the  Macedonian 
heavy  -  armed  shieldsmen.  Hirsute  Abasgians  and 
Iberians  from  the  southern  valleys  of  the  Caucasus,  on 
mountain  ponies  and  in  shaggy  sheepskins  and  furs, 
held  another  side  of  the  ground.  But  the  main  interest 
of  the  day  was  a  series  of  cavalry  charges  and  evolu- 
tions by  the  mass  of  Magyar  mounted  archers,  which 
was  the  latest  body  of  troopers  enlisted  in  the  imperial 
army.  The  emperor  glowed  with  pride  and  hope  as  he 
shouted  the  word  of  command,  which  was  repeated 
in  Hungarian  dialects  by  the  interpreter,  or  captain 
of  each  squadron;  and  as  he  watched  the  rapid  move- 

285 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

ments  and  consummate  horsemanship  of  men,  who 
then,  as  now,  were  accounted  to  rank  with  the  finest 
cavalry  of  their  age.  Nicephorus,  a  cavalry -man 
from  youth,  called  his  staff  round  him,  and  enlarged 
with  enthusiasm  and  in  detail  on  the  paramount  im- 
portance on  the  mounted  arm  in  war,  and  he  forced  on 
them  those  lessons  as  to  scouting,  rapidity  in  advance, 
and  the  system  of  successive  charges  which  are  laid 
down  so  authoritatively  in  his  own  book  on  Tactics. 

As  they  rode  with  the  staff  in  the  exercises,  Eric  plied 
his  general  with  inquiries  and  amused  him  with  his 
naive  remarks.  The  young  hero,  who  had  seen  ac- 
tive service  with  several  different  nations,  had  already 
that  soldier's  eye  which  distinguished  him  so  much  in 
after  years  in  the  campaigns  of  Basil  II.  against  the 
Bulgarians;  when,  under  the  adopted  name  of  Niceph- 
orus Ouranos,  he  gained  so  splendid  a  victory  over  King 
Samuel.  What  amazed  the  young  Norwegian  was  the 
complicated  evolution  whereby  a  whole  cavalry  divis- 
ion of  five  thousand  troopers  was  regularly  divided 
into  four  lines,  the  first  the  fighting  line,  the  second  the 
supporting  line,  the  third  behind  them  as  another  re- 
serve, and,  fourthly,  detachments  on  both  wings.  And 
small  squadrons  were  detached  to  lie  in  wait  and  were 
called  the  "outlying  guard." 

"The  force  now  engaged  in  manoeuvres,"  said  Bardas 
to  his  young  aide,  whose  military  genius  he  had  already 
perceived  and  resolved  to  train,  "the  force  on  the  field, 
is  what  we  call  a  division  (or  turma).  Each  division, 
you  observe,  is  composed  of  two  brigades  (or  drungi). 
Each  brigade  of  five  regiments  (bandas).  The  senior 
general  of  division,  whom  we  call  a  turmarch,  leads  the 
front  line,  stationed  in  the  centre  of  it  with  his  stand- 

286 


An   Emperor's   Day 

ard-bearer,  orderlies,  and  trumpeters.  Then  you  will 
see  the  intervals  between  the  regiments,  to  enable  the 
reserve  to  pass  through  or  the  front  line  to  retire  in 
order." 

"Oh,  but  this  is  a  complicated  order  of  battle  in- 
deed," said  Eric.  "Is  all  this  quadruple  and  quin- 
tuple disposition  observed  on  the  field  in  actual  war, 
or  is  it  a  mere  peace  manoeuvre  to  practise  disci- 
pline?" 

"This  is  but  the  a  b  c  of  tactics,  my  son,"  said 
Bardas,  smiling.  "Of  course,  a  Roman  army  on  the 
field  of  battle  is  drawn  up  as  you  see  it  here,  with  all 
of  these  rules — all  of  them  and  a  great  many  more. 
All  this  is  what  you  have  to  learn,  my  young  friend." 

"But  it  is  difficult  to  follow  it  with  the  eye  in  the 
clouds  of  dust  and  the  rapid  manoeuvres  of  the  squad- 
rons," said  the  youth,  perplexed  by  the  amazing  va- 
riety of  the  interlacing  movements  he  saw. 

"Well,  you  must  study  your  books  of  military 
science.  You  don't  suppose  a  Roman  general  is  to  be 
made  without  hard  study  of  rules  and  formations  in 
our  manuals  of  the  art  of  war.  There  is  the  excellent 
Strategicon  of  the  illustrious  Emperor  Maurice,  which, 
old  as  it  is,  is  still  to  be  read.  Then  there  are  the 
Tactics  of  the  Emperor  Leo,  the  Learned,  ancestor  of 
the  young  Basileis  minors;  and,  above  all  others,  there 
is  the  Tactics  of  our  present  Augustus,  which  I  have 
myself  drafted  at  his  dictation,  and  which  is  being 
now  circulated  to  the  army  chiefs  in  the  rough.  Pore 
over  that  by  night,  my  boy,  and  practise  its  rules  by 
day,  and  you  may  one  day  lead  a  Roman  army  your- 
self." 

"But  I  never  saw  or  heard  anything  of  all  this  science 
287 


Theophano  :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

as  you  call  it,"  said  Eric,  puzzled,  "I  have  seen  hard 
fighting  with  Danes,  Russ,  and  Bulgars.  I  have  seen 
the  Frank  knights  on  the  Seine.  Indeed,  I  was  a  squire 
of  Rudolph  when  he  marched  to  join  the  great  king  of 
the  Germans  in  the  expedition  wherein  he  routed  the 
Magyars.  And  I  saw  the  flower  of  the  Saracens  of 
Spain  when  the  Caliph  Abd-er-Rahman  was  buried  at 
Cordova.  But  we  never  heard  anything  of  divisions, 
brigades,  and  regiments,  much  less  of  first,  second, 
and  third  lines  of  attack,  reserves,  and  flank  charges. 
With  Russ,  Franks,  Saxons,  and  Saracens  each  chief 
leads  his  own  men-at-arms,  and  they  follow  his  pennon 
as  close  as  they  can." 

"Why,  of  course,  you  never  heard  of  all  this  among 
those  wild  men,"  cried  Bardas,  aloud,  with  a  hearty 
laugh.  "The  Roman  army  is  the  only  army  on  earth 
that  is  scientifically  equipped  and  led  by  officers  who 
are  masters  of  their  art.  These  outlandish  barbarians 
are  brave  enough  and  strong  enough  and  proud  enough, 
God  knows,  but  they  know  less  of  the  glorious  arts  of 
war,  of  tactics,  manoeuvres,  and  stratagem  than  any 
one  of  those  transport  details  you  see  waiting  there 
with  the  carts  and  spades  and  shovels,  or,  indeed,  less 
than  any  common  bearer  from  the  ambulance  train. 
A  Frank  or  Saxon  knight,  even  a  Saracen  emir,  would 
think  he  knew  the  whole  of  his  business  when  he  could 
sit  his  charger,  wield  his  lance  and  his  sword  with  dex- 
terity, and  lead  a  mob  of  his  own  followers  pell-mell  in 
a  furious  charge." 

"Ay,  I  have  seen  Saxons,  Franks,  and  Lombards 
charge  like  a  herd  of  wild  bulls  in  the  Thuringian  for- 
ests," said  Eric. 

"Oh,  heroic  enough,  no  doubt,"  said  Bardas,  with  a 
288 


An  Emperor's  Day 

sardonic  smile.  "These  knight-errants  would  prefer 
to  lose  a  battle  amid  prodigies  of  valor  rather  than  to 
win  it  by  craft  and  science.  To  us  Byzantines  craft 
and  science  are  two-thirds  of  war." 

"And  is  the  whole  Roman  army  thus  organized  in 
divisions,  brigades,  regiments,  and  attendant  corps, 
and  has  each  squadron  and  regiment  a  distinctive  arm 
and  uniform  of  its  own?"  asked  Eric  again. 

"Certainly,"  said  Bardas;  "a  Roman  army  consists 
of  regulars,  regularly  drilled,  equipped,  and  armed. 
Thev  are  not  a  levy  of  countrymen  or  a  casual  muster 
of  followers,  tenants,  vassals,  and  tribesmen." 

As  the  heat  of  the  day  began  to  strike,  the  corps 
were  paraded,  distributed,  and  marched  off  to  bar- 
racks. The  young  Varangian  was  amazed  at  the  ease 
and  precision  with  which  so  large  a  force  was  drawn 
off  the  review-ground  to  barracks  in  various  quarters, 
and  the  exact  order  which  each  arm  and  detachment 
observed.  Light  and  heavy  cavalry,  bowmen,  shield- 
men,  and  foot -guards  drew  off  in  turn,  with  the  regu- 
larity of  a  modern  review,  each  corps  attended  by  its 
own  followers,  engineers,  transport,  and  bearers,  with 
carts,  pack-horses,  and  camp  utensils,  spades,  picks, 
saws,  arrows,  and  bolts  —  the  whole  equipped  to  take 
the  field. 

The  following  day  was  appointed  for  the  reception 
of  embassies  from  foreign  rulers,  tributaries,  and  tribes, 
who  had  been  deputed  to  congratulate  the  new  sov- 
ereign. Bardas  Skleros  was  on  duty  in  the  court  of 
the  emperor,  and  he  desired  to  impress  the  imagina- 
tion of  his  young  follower,  whose  great  promise  as  a 
soldier  of  keen  intelligence  and  strong  character  he 
had  begun  to  recognize.     Accordingly,  he  placed  Eric 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

under  the  charge  of  his  honor,  Symmachos,  a  silentiary, 
or  gentleman-in-waiting  of  the  chambers,  who  under- 
took to  coach  the  young  Norseman  in  the  ceremonies 
of  the  day.  No  part  of  the  imperial  system  was  more 
important  than  the  practice  of  the  military  officials  to 
attract  new  blood  into  their  service  and  to  impress  on 
outlying  tribesmen  of  all  nations  a  sense  of  the  power 
and  culture  of  the  empire. 

Eric  entered  the  Sacred  Palace  from  the  Augusteum 
through  the  brazen  porch  of  Chalce,  where  he  was  now 
known  to  the  guards  and  porters,  and,  making  his  way 
through  the  triclinium  of  the  scholares — i.  e.,  the  guard- 
room of  the  body-guard — into  the  great,  open,  outer 
court,  he  passed  through  the  bronze  gates  there,  where 
he  was  met  by  Symmachos  in  the  spacious  cloister  in 
which  there  stood,  apart  from  the  main  palace,  the 
sumptuous  court  known  as  the  Magnaura.  He  was 
allowed  to  witness  the  passage  of  their  Majesties 
through  the  Gallery  of  the  Forty  Saints,  adorned  with 
colossal  mosaic  representations  of  the  chief  martyrs 
and  glories  of  the  Orthodox  Church ;  and  so  on  through 
the  sigma,  or  great  oval,  to  the  long  corridor  of  the 
Daphne.  The  emperor  and  empress  were  escorted 
by  their  cubiculars,  spathaires,  vestiaries,  lords  and 
ladies  in  waiting,  gold -stick,  and  sword-bearers,  all 
marshalled  by  the  grand  master  of  the  household. 
All  were  in  state  robes  and  gold-embroidered  mantles, 
with  collars  and  badges,  according  to  their  rank  and 
office.  From  the  long  corridor  of  the  Daphne,  their 
Majesties  passed  into  the  Church  of  our  Lord,  which  in 
former  dynasties  had  been  the  private  chapel  of  the 
palace.  There  they  received  the  lighted  wax  candles 
which  they  placed  before  the  sacred  emblem,  and  pros- 

290 


An   Emperor's   Day 

trated  themselves  in  worship  at  the  altar  over  which 
stood  the  grand  and  pathetic  figure  of  the  Redeemer  of 
Mankind. 

While  their  Majesties  were  engaged  in  their  devo- 
tions, the  silentiary  took  the  young  guardsman  into 
the  great  Hall  of  Magnaura,  which  he  had  not  previous- 
ly seen.  It  stood,  as  we  have  said,  apart  from  the 
Sacred  Palace  itself,  in  the  gardens  to  the  north,  and  it 
abutted  on  the  senate-house  and  Church  of  Mary  of  the 
copper  mart,  which  lay  between  it  and  the  Cathedral 
of  the  Holy  Wisdom.  This  magnificent  basilica  was  in 
the  oblong  form,  with  a  semicircular  apse  and  a  raised 
platform,  of  which  examples  remain  to  us  in  Rome, 
Pompeii,  and  in  Greece  and  Asia  Minor.  On  each  side 
six  porphyry  columns  supported  the  gilded  cornice  and 
formed  the  openings  to  seven  lateral  exedras,  or  re- 
cesses. Beside  the  terminal  apse  there  rose  from  the 
platform  on  which  stood  the  throne  four  vast  mono- 
liths of  the  lovely  green  marble  of  Sparta — in  groups  of 
two  each  on  either  side.  The  walls  of  the  hall  were  en- 
tirely covered  with  panels  of  Proconnesian  and  Phryg- 
ian streaked  marbles,  as  we  see  it  to-day  in  Aya  Sophia. 
The  capitals  were  mainly  of  bronze  gilt,  in  form  such  as 
we  see  at  St.  Mark's  at  Venice.  The  central  doors  were 
also  of  bronze  gilt.  The  roof  was  covered  with  mosaic 
designs  made  of  glass  and  gilt  tesserae,  having  figures 
of  the  Saviour,  Virgin,  and  saints,  mixed  with  arabesque 
patterns  of  vine  leaves,  acanthus,  Greek  crosses,  mono- 
grams, and  exquisite  geometric  traceries. 

As  Eric  entered  and  surveyed  in  mute  awe  this  grand 
edifice,  glowing  with  soft  radiance  like  a  sunset,  for  its 
supreme  splendor  of  color  was  harmonized  into  a  tone 
of  solemnity  and  peace,  the  royal  architects  were  just 

291 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

giving  the  last  touches  to  the  special  adornments  of 
the  day.  Gilded  chains  were  suspended  from  column 
to  column,  and  from  each  chain  was  hung  a  huge  can- 
delabrum of  silver,  each  bearing  twenty-five  lamps. 
Tapestries  and  curtains  were  hung  over  the  doorways 
and  lateral  recesses  and  partly  concealed  the  golden 
organ  and  choir  of  the  emperor  on  one  side  and  the 
silver  organ  and  choir  of  the  factions  on  the  other  side. 
Rich  rugs,  of  the  design  we  now  call  Persian,  were 
strewn  over  the  marble  flooring  of  the  hall  and  across 
the  steps  and  the  dais  whereon  the  imperial  cortege 
was  to  stand. 

That  which,  to  the  untutored  but  imaginative  mind 
of  the  young  viking,  was  the  most  beautiful  and  mystic 
work  before  him  was  the  throne  of  Solomon,  which 
served  as  the  emperor's  seat.  It  had  been  exactly  re- 
produced from  the  account  of  the  first  book  of  Kings, 
chapter  x.: 

"The  king  made  a  great  throne  of  ivory,  and  overlaid  it  with 
the  best  gold.  The  throne  had  six  steps,  and  the  top  of  the 
throne  was  round  behind:  and  there  were  stays  on  either  side 
on  the  place  of  the  seat,  and  two  lions  stood  beside  the  stays. 
And  twelve  lions  stood  there  on  the  one  side  and  on  the  other 
upon  the  six  steps:  there  was  not  the  like  made  in  any  king- 
dom." 

The  emperors  of  the  Romans,  who  claimed  to  be,  in 
a  sense,  the  successors  of  the  chosen  people,  and  who 
are  often  represented  in  illuminated  manuscripts  in 
royal  robes  as  kings  of  Israel,  had  carefully  restored 
the  throne  of  Solomon  as  their  seat  of  high  state.  The 
chair  itself  was  of  ivory  and  gold,  and  the  lions  which 
supported  the  arms  of  the  chair  were  of  silver  gilt,  as 
were  the  smaller  lions  which  acted  as  supporters  on  the 

292 


An   Emperor's   Day 

six  steps  below  it.  Such  a  throne  was  taken  as  a  pat- 
tern throughout  the  west;  and  the  famous  seat  of 
Dagobert  in  the  Louvre  is  supported  by  lions  in  the 
same  way.  The  throne  of  Solomon,  however,  was  not 
a  curule  chair,  but  a  much  more  solid  and  magnificent 
erection,  having  a  high  back  adorned  with  gems  and 
enamel  enrichments.  Eric  gazed  in  amazement  and 
awe  at  the  splendid  hall ;  but  he  was  presently  dragged 
by  his  guide  to  witness  the  procession  that  was  forming 
in  the  court -yard  outside  the  Magnaura  itself. 

The  magistri,  the  patricians,  and  the  senate  in  a 
body,  with  a  crowd  of  officials  of  various  ranks,  awaited 
the  summons  to  attend  the  court.  A  silentiary  having 
given  the  signal,  Eric  and  Symmachos  were  able  to 
enter  the  hall  and  view  the  approach  of  their  Majesties. 
Before  they  took  their  seats  on  the  thrones,  the  im- 
perial crowns,  with  their  long  pendants  of  pearls  and 
gems,  were  placed  on  their  heads,  and  the  royal  man- 
tles were  thrown  over  their  state  robes.  Nicephorus 
himself  sat  on  the  throne  of  Solomon,  Theophano  at 
his  left  hand,  and  the  two  child-Basileis  on  low  stools 
behind  them.  Around  them  were  placed  the  secre- 
taries and  notaries  to  take  a  report  of  the  words  spoken, 
with  the  logothete,  or  finance  minister,  and  the  chan- 
cellor. In  the  rear  behind  the  throne  stood  a  crowd 
of  cubiculars,  silentiaries,  and  the  lords-in-waiting  and 
gentlemen  of  the  golden  banqueting  chamber. 

When  the  royal  party  were  all  seated  and  placed, 
the  master  of  the  household  gave  the  signal  for  the 
sacramental  cheer;  and  from  the  choirs  behind  the  cur- 
tains and  from  the  crowd  at  the  end  of  the  hall  broke 
forth  the  ritual  chant,  "Long,  long  live  our  Basileus! 
Long  live  our  Basilissa!     Many — many — happy  years 

293 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century- 
give  them,  O  Lord  God!"  At  another  signal  from  the 
master  of  the  household,  the  gold-stick-in-waiting  in- 
troduced the  first  "curtain"  —  i.e.,  the  magistri,  or 
marshals,  who  had  been  stationed  in  the  nearest  recess. 
The  magistri  advanced  to  the  throne  and  prostrated 
themselves  before  the  steps.  A  second  usher  intro- 
duced the  second  "curtain" — i.  e.,  the  patricians,  who 
stood  next  in  rank — and  so  on,  the  senators  and  each 
successive  order  in  due  turn  drawing  aside  the  curtain 
which  served  to  mark  their  place  in  the  ceremonial. 

It  was  now  the  turn  of  the  foreign  envoys,  the  first  of 
whom  were  from  the  powerful  caliph  of  Cordova,  now 
Hakim  II.,  with  whom  relations  of  amity  were  still 
maintained.  The  master  of  the  household  again  sig- 
nalled to  the  gold-stick,  who,  with  great  ceremony,  in- 
troduced the  mission,  at  the  head  of  which  was  the 
Emir  Ghalib,  supported  by  the  learned  Ibn  Khaldun, 
the  same  who  had  escorted  Digenes  and  his  companions 
in  the  capital  of  the  Spanish  empire.  The  emir  was 
accompanied  on  his  right  hand  by  the  catepano,  or 
master  of  the  ceremonies,  on  the  left  by  the  master  of 
the  horse,  and  was  attended  by  an  interpreter  and  his 
secretaries.  The  envoy  of  the  mighty  caliph  was  per- 
mitted to  make  his  obeisance  in  his  own  way — while 
the  envoys  of  the  rude  tribes  of  the  north  or  the  east 
were  required  to  prostrate  themselves  at  full  length 
before  the  mystic  throne. 

As  each  ambassador  advanced  and  made  his  salaam, 
the  organs  pealed  forth  a  triumphal  march,  and  as  he 
rose  from  the  ground  the  kettle-drums  crashed  a  sono- 
rous welcome.  The  chancellor  then  addressed  the  am- 
bassador, and  inquired  of  the  health  of  the  sovereign 
or  chief  whom  he  represented,  and  the  ceremonial  com- 

294 


An  Emperor's  Day 

pliments  of  friendship  and  congratulation  were  duly- 
recited.  Then  the  golden  lions  around  the  throne  were 
made  to  utter  sounds  in  imitation  of  a  roar  of  the  beast 
by  an  ingenious  mechanism,  which  was  nothing  but  the 
stop  of  an  organ  concealed  beneath  the  floor.  To  Eric 
and  to  the  untutored  envoys  of  the  north  the  sounds 
issuing  from  the  throats  of  the  lions  seemed  little  less 
than  miraculous.  To  the  citizens  of  Constantinople, 
with  whom  the  wind-organ  and  other  instruments  of 
the  kind  were  familiar,  the  mechanical  roar  of  the 
lions  on  the  throne  and  the  twittering  of  the  golden 
birds  in  the  canopy  above,  which  was  also  a  favorite 
device,  had  ceased  to  be  anything  but  a  useful  toy,  that 
amused  the  groundlings  and  amazed  the  barbarians. 

The  envoy  of  the  caliph  was  succeeded  by  a  prelate 
despatched  from  old  Rome  by  the  Pope  (or  anti-Pope) 
Leo  VIII.,  who  was  struggling  amid  horrors  of  every 
sort  to  dispossess  the  infamous  Octavian  claiming  to 
be  Pope  John  XII.  Nicephorus,  whose  detestation  of 
the  degraded  and  servile  papacy  was  boundless,  had 
been  persuaded  with  difficulty  to  receive  the  oppo- 
nent and  rival  of  the  ferocious  murderer  who  now  des- 
ecrated the  Latin  see.  Basil  and  the  astute  council  of 
the  empire  had  warned  their  proud  chief  not  to  rebuff 
the  candidate  for  the  chair  of  St.  Peter,  who  was  chosen 
by  the  all-powerful  Otto  I.  of  Germany  and  Italy.  Ni- 
cephorus listened  to  the  hollow  congratulations  of  the 
Italian  prelate  in  silence,  and  directed  his  chancellor  to 
reply  to  them  with  the  best  grace  he  could  assume.  The 
Roman  prelate  was  followed  by  envoys  from  Venice, 
Amalphi,  and  the  dukes  of  Beneventum  and  Capua, 
who  still  admitted  a  shadowy  bond  of  vassalage  to  the 
successor  of  Justinian  at  Byzantium, 
so  295 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

The  Italian  envoys  were  succeeded  by  a  crowd  of  dep- 
uties from  various  nations,  tribes,  and  princelets  north 
of  the  Ister  and  the  Euxine  Sea,  or  such  as  lay  beyond 
the  eastern  frontier  of  the  empire.  They  were  first 
Patzinaks,  then  Russ;  then  Chazars,  Alans,  and 
"Turks,"  or  Hungarians,  as  we  call  them  to-day. 
All  were  in  uncouth  and  picturesque  native  costumes, 
shaggy  skins,  tall  and  pointed  head-gear,  and  strange 
ornaments.  They  each  brought  presents  of  various 
sorts — embroidered  garments,  embossed  arms,  enam- 
elled vases,  horses,  performing  bears,  and  white  boar- 
hounds,  which  were  paraded  in  the  court  outside,  then 
announced  with  much  solemnity,  and  received  with 
equal  curiosity  and  interest. 

The  long  reception  was  continued  for  hours  as  the 
envoys  were  presented  from  the  kings  of  Armenia 
proper,  the  dwellers  around  Mount  Ararat  and  the 
plains  of  Lake  Van ;  from  the  Abasgians  and  Georgians 
of  the  Caucasus,  the  Lazi,  and  the  chief  of  the  Ibe- 
rians, who  had  been  honored  with  the  right  to  assume 
the  Byzantine  title  of  curopalates.  Long  before  the 
stream  of  introductions  had  ended,  with  its  ever-vary- 
ing changes  of  language,  costume,  and  manner,  the 
young  Scandinavian  had  been  quite  lost  in  the  babel  of 
tongues  and  the  moving  panorama  before  his  eyes. 
The  impression  had  been  fully  driven  into  his  open 
mind,  which  the  subtle  politicians  of  Constantinople 
ever  sought  to  extend — the  impression  of  the  world- 
wide relations  of  the  Roman  empire,  and  its  claim  to 
be  the  centre  of  power,  culture,  and  Christian  civiliza- 
tion. It  was  the  policy  embodied  by  Constantine 
Born-in-the-Purple  in  the  fifty-three  chapters  of  his 
work,  The  Administration  of  the  Empire,  which  he  so 

296 


An  Emperor's  Day 

laboriously — and  so  uselessly — prepared  for  the  in- 
struction of  his  feckless  son. 

There  is  a  pathos  to-day  as  we  read  the  dedication 
and  preface  to  this  work,  recalling,  as  it  does,  so  much 
profound  state  policy  and  such  wasted  hopes.  "Con- 
stantine  by  grace  of  Christ  the  King  Everlasting,  Em- 
peror of  the  Romans,  these  to  his  only  son,  Romanus, 
crowned  of  God  and  Born  -in  -the  -  Purple,  Emperor." 
He  begins:  "A  wise  son  rejoices  the  heart  of  his  father, 
and  an  affectionate  father  has  delight  in  a  thoughtful 
son.  Now,  therefore,  my  son,  listen  to  my  words;  and 
if  you  take  to  heart  these  lessons  you  will  be  counted  as 
wise  among  the  thoughtful  and  as  thoughtful  among 
the  wise.  The  people  will  bless  thee,  and  many  nations 
shall  call  thee  fortunate.  Take  to  heart  that  which  it 
behooves  thee  to  understand,  so  shalt  thou  wield  the 
helm  of  this  empire  like  a  wise  ruler.  And  do  Thou, 
O  Lord  my  God,  whose  heavenly  kingdom  is  indestruc- 
tible and  everlasting,  vouchsafe  to  guide  in  the  right 
way  this  son  whom  I  have  begotten  by  Thy  grace." 
Alas!  the  bright  youth,  so  beloved  and  so  promising, 
was  guided  rather  in  the  wrong  way  by  Theophano,  by 
Bringas,  by  Chaerina,  and  many  devils  like  unto  them, 
into  the  bottomless  pit  where  he  lay  the  scorn  of  after 
ages. 

At  the  very  end  of  the  audience  a  scene  of  extraordi- 
nary violence  roused  the  whole  hall  to  a  state  of  wild 
excitement.  The  envoys  of  the  sovereign  of  Bulgaria, 
the  Czar  Peter,  had  the  right,  as  the  Czar  was  allowed 
the  title  of  Basileus,  to  be  presented  before  all  other 
foreign  ambassadors.  To-day  they  had  been  purposely 
kept  to  the  last,  in  spite  of  their  remonstrances  and 
indignation.     Peter,  when  nearly  forty  years  before  he 

297 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

had  succeeded  to  the  throne  of  his  father,  the  power- 
ful Symeon,  had  made  a  treaty  of  amity  with  the  By- 
zantine kingdom,  and  had  married  a  granddaughter 
of  the  Emperor  Lecapenus,  a  cousin  of  Romanus  II. 
By  this  treaty  the  Bulgarian  sovereign  was  entitled 
to  receive  a  yearly  subsidy  in  consideration  of  his  pro- 
tecting the  empire  from  the  incursions  of  the  Magyars 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Danube.  The  Bulgarian 
kingdom  now  extended  from  Belgrade  to  Adrianople, 
which  under  Symeon  had  been  a  terrible  incubus  to 
Constantinople,  had  become  weak  and  peaceful  under 
Peter,  and  a  docile  imitator  of  the  arts  and  manners 
of  Byzantium.  The  subsidy  was  regularly  paid;  but 
the  Bulgarian  monarchy  had  been  little  able  to  restrain 
the  incursions  of  the  Danubian  raiders.  To  all  the 
remonstrances  of  the  empire,  they  alleged  their  own 
weakness.  Nicephorus  in  council  had  resolved  to  re- 
fuse any  further  payment;  and,  indeed,  he  had  secretly 
decided  on  a  policy  which  should  bring  the  Bulgarian 
kingdom  to  its  knees  by  force  of  arms. 

When  at  last  admitted  to  the  hall  of  audience,  the 
Bulgarian  envoys  committed  the  imprudence  of  add- 
ing to  the  formal  compliments  to  the  new  Basileus  the 
exasperating  demand  for  payment  of  the  annual  sub- 
sidy, which  they  spoke  of  as  "the  tribute  they  had 
been  sent  to  claim."  Nicephorus,  who  wanted  but  a 
pretext  of  the  kind  to  justify  a  rupture  with  the  king- 
dom, rose  from  his  throne,  and  in  a  tone  of  indigna- 
tion, which  he  had  no  need  to  feign,  for  the  very  word 
"tribute"  had  roused  him  to  ungovernable  passion,  he 
broke  out  thus :  "  Foul  shame  would  it  be  to  us  Romans, 
to  us  who  in  arms  have  driven  before  us  every  enemy 
who  has  dared  to  meet  us,  if  we  consent  to  pay  'trib- 


An   Emperor's  Day 

lite '  as  if  we  were  slaves  buying  their  freedom  by  coin — 
ay,  pay  tribute  to  a  horde  of  Scythians,  this  miserable 
and  unclean  tribe  of  barbarians." 

This  extraordinary  outburst,  so  unusual  in  a  man  as 
taciturn  and  as  self-controlled  as  Nicephorus,  electri- 
fied the  audience;  for  only  the  privy-councillors,  and 
but  few  of  them,  knew  of  the  emperor's  settled  purpose 
to  bring  on  a  war  with  the  Czar  Peter. 

Then  the  emperor,  kindling  with  his  own  passion, 
in  a  voice  of  thunder  that  he  never  used  in  public  coun- 
cils, turned  to  his  aged  father,  Bardas,  as  if  to  recall 
some  by-gone  incident  of  the  Lecapenian  usurpers,  and 
said:  "What  on  earth  do  these  Mcesians  mean,  my 
father,  by  talking  about  tribute  as  due  to  them  from 
Rome? — 'tribute,'  do  they  say?  What,  sir,  am  I  not 
your  own  true-born  son?  Am  I,  the  august  emperor 
of  the  Romans,  to  be  a  tributary — the  tributary,  for- 
sooth— of  a  pitiful  and  ungodly  tribe?" 

The  audience  held  their  breath  in  awe.  The  Bul- 
garian envoys  cowered. 

"Here!"  roared  Nicephorus.  "Ushers,  bring  your 
rods  and  drive  these  fellows  from  our  presence!" 

Nicephorus  was  now  choking  with  rage,  and  attempt- 
ed no  longer  to  restrain  himself. 

"Be  off  with  you!"  he  cried,  hoarsely.  "Go  tell 
your  master,  whose  food  is  the  leather  and  whose  gar- 
ments are  the  hides  of  his  own  cattle,  they  say — go  back 
and  tell  him  that  the  mighty  and  irresistible  Basileus 
of  the  Romans  is  now  about  to  march  from  his  own 
country  into  his,  and  he  will  himself  bring  the  tribute 
that  is  demanded  of  him — tribute  that  your  people  will 
little  care  to  have.  Now  learn,  slaves  as  you  are,  with 
slaves  for  your  fathers  and  your  grandsires — learn  to 

299 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

address  the  sovereign  of  the  Romans  as  your  lord  and 
master,  and  never  dare  in  this  palace  to  talk  to  him 
about  tribute,  as  if  he  were  a  caitiff  and  a  serf." 

The  emperor  closed  the  audience,  and  the  hall  was 
forthwith  emptied.  Excited  groups  gathered  outside 
to  discuss  the  meaning  of  it  all.  No  one  was  more 
amazed  than  Eric,  and  meeting  the  general  Bardas 
Skleros  in  the  throng,  he  ventured  to  ask  him  what  it 
portended. 

"It  portends,"  said  Bardas,  quietly,  "that  war  will 
be  declared  against  the  Bulgarian  kingdom  this  very 
day.  Rome,  in  her  hour  of  victory,  will  not  suffer  those 
savages  to  threaten  our  very  existence  from  the  passes 
of  the  Hsemus.  We  will  crush  this  Bulgarian  kingdom. 
The  emperor  crosses  their  frontier  to-morrow  at  the 
head  of  the  advanced  army.  In  ten  days  we  shall  reach 
their  so-called  capital  on  the  northern  side  of  the  moun- 
tains. I  am  to  command  a  brigade,  and  you  shall  be 
on  my  staff." 

So  Eric  began  his  service  in  the  long,  secular  duel  be- 
tween the  Bulgarian  and  Byzantine  kingdoms — a  duel 
wherein  he  himself  was  destined  to  play  so  heroic  a 
part,  a  duel  wherein  the  child-Basil  who  had  witnessed 
the  rebuff  of  the  envoys  of  King  Peter  was  destined  to 
earn  his  title  of  "Slayer  of  the  Bulgarians." 


XXI 
Islam  and  Cross 

THE  sun  was  high  over  the  Asian  Olympus,  bath- 
ing in  its  glow  the  calm  waters  of  the  Propontis, 
and  the  rocky  islets  that  we  now  call  the  Islands  of 
the  Princes.  The  islet  nearest  to  Byzantium,  and 
within  a  few  miles  of  it,  still  bears  the  name  of  Prote, 
or  "the  first,"  from  the  capital.  It  commands  a  glori- 
ous panorama  of  that  superb  scene,  crowded  with  hills, 
rocks,  bays,  cities,  and  towers,  as  it  fronts  the  lower 
opening  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  the  southern  side  of  the 
city  with  its  battlements,  palaces,  and  domes. 

High  on  a  headland  of  the  islet  stood  a  large  edifice 
of  stone,  which  had  once  been  a  monastery — but  for 
many  years  had  served  as  an  imperial  summer  lodge, 
and  of  late  was  used  as  a  ceremonial  retreat  for  state 
prisoners  and  fallen  princes.  There  the  deposed  em- 
peror, Romanus  Lecapenus,  had  passed  in  peace  the 
last  years  of  his  checkered  career;  and,  since  the  capt- 
ure of  Chandax,  it  had  served  as  the  palace  and  the 
prison  of  the  defeated  kouropas,  or  governor  of  Crete, 
the  aged  Abd-el-Aziz,  and  his  family.  As  he  had  duly 
gone  through  the  abject  forms  of  prostration  before 
the  emperor  in  the  triumph  at  the  Hippodrome,  and 
had  fully  submitted  himself  to  the  conquerors,  Ro- 
manus and  his  politic  advisers  had  given  the  old  hero 

301 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

an  adequate  estate,  offered  him  senatorial  rank,  and 
the  honors  of  a  princely  retreat.  His  submission  was 
real  and  final;  he  had  suffered  his  son  Anemas  to  ac- 
cept rank  in  the  imperial  guard,  and  his  daughter 
Sophia  to  enter  as  a  pupil  into  a  nunnery,  where  she 
had  acquired  a  perfect  Greek  education.  Both  had 
been  baptized,  and  followed  Christian  rituals.  But 
the  old  man  himself,  a  Syed  of  the  blood  of  the  Prophet, 
stoutly  refused  to  abandon  the  faith  of  his  race,  and 
patiently  accepted  the  position  of  a  state  prisoner, 
under  an  honorary  seclusion  and  military  guard. 

To-day  he  sat  alone  on  the  covered  terrace  of  his 
mansion,  looking  down  upon  the  garden  below,  across 
the  rippling  waters,  where  he  could  see  the  proud  tow- 
ers of  his  conqueror,  now  Basileus  of  Rome.  All  was 
a  scene  of  perfect  peace  and  beauty.  Trellised  roses 
clustered  in  profusion  round  the  arcades  of  his  terrace, 
filling  the  air  with  perfume;  violets,  lilies,  hyacinths, 
narcissi,  and  oleanders  nestled  in  recesses  beneath  it. 
As  the  slopes,  ornamented  with  balustrades,  vases,  and 
statues,  fell  downward  to  the  sea,  they  were  shaded 
with  fruit-trees,  pomegranates,  acacias,  cedars,  and 
ilex.  And  at  the  bottom,  where  lounged  on  formal  sen- 
try a  huge  Varangian  guardsman,  an  avenue  of  cy- 
presses half  concealed  the  garden  wall. 

The  old  kouropas  mused  in  silence,  his  white  beard 
flowing  down  over  his  embroidered  khaftan,  for  he 
retained  his  Saracen  dress  and  habits.  His  work  was 
done,  and  he  waited  in  peace  for  the  summons  of  Al- 
lah ;  pondering  on  the  inscrutable  decrees  which  seemed 
to  be  confounding  on  all  sides  the  hopes  of  Islam  since 
the  fortunes  of  Rome  had  passed  to  the  hand  of  the 
invincible    Nicephorus    Phocas.     As    he    mused,    his 

302 


Islam  and  Cross 

daughter  stole  gently  in  upon  her  father  to  see  if  he 
were  sleeping  in  a  siesta,  or  had  any  need  of  her  help. 
She  was  a  sweet  girl  of  seventeen,  tall,  elegant,  of  olive 
tint,  with  the  full,  dark  eyes  of  her  race.  Sophia,  for 
she  adopted  the  Greek  spelling  of  her  name  with  her 
change  of  habits,  after  five  or  six  years  of  training  in 
the  capital,  was  now  in  every  sense  a  Byzantine,  and 
wore  the  embroidered  silk  robes  of  a  lady  of  the  court. 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  my  dearest  father?"  she 
asked,  in  the  musical  tones  natural  to  an  Arab  maiden. 

"  Nay,  come  and  sit  below  my  divan  here,  my  child," 
he  said,  "and  tell  me  of  all  you  have  seen  and  heard  in 
the  great  city  and  their  Sacred  Palace." 

The  girl  softly  nestled  down  beside  her  father,  and, 
looking  up  into  his  eyes,  she  poured  out  the  tale  of  all 
she  had  seen  in  her  recent  visit  to  the  court.  She 
had  just  returned  from  admission  to  the  suite  of  the 
Princess  Agatha,  who  had  taken  her  to  the  imperial 
dais,  at  a  reception  of  the  foreign  ambassadors.  Since 
she  left  her  home  in  Crete,  at  the  age  of  twelve,  she  had 
seen  little  beyond  the  cloister  of  the  nuns  of  St.  Basil, 
who  had  brought  her  up;  and  her  girlish  imagination 
had  been  profoundly  impressed  by  all  she  had  seen  and 
heard.  "Never  could  I  have  believed  any  city  was 
so  vast,"  she  said:  "such  endless  crowds  in  the  street, 
such  magnificent  halls,  corridors,  terraces,  and  gar- 
dens, to  which  those  of  Prote  were  a  mere  toy.  And  the  . 
long  lines  of  soldiers  in  splendid  uniforms,  father,  and 
the  Danubian  cavalry  on  their  chargers,  lining  the 
streets — tens  of  thousands  of  mailed  giants,  all  as  big 
and  fierce  as  that  fair-haired  Varangian  there  below  in 
the  garden — and  the  organs  and  choirs  in  the  hall — ■ 
and  the  magnificent  robes  of  the  emperor  and  his  court, 

303 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

and  his  imperial  guard — the  Immortals — in  gilt  mail — 
and  Anemas  was  there,  on  duty,  and  looked  the  most 
like  a  soldier  of  them  all." 

"Ah!"  said  the  old  emir,  with  a  soft,  sad  smile,  "it 
is  natural  that  you  young  ones  should  be  dazzled  with 
the  power  and  splendor  of  Roum.  Allah  has  sorely 
chastened  the  rebellious  people  of  Islam,  whose  quar- 
rels and  treasons  reach  upward  to  the  throne  of  grace. 
In  his  mercy  and  his  wisdom  he  has  decreed  to  give 
victory  to  the  Nazarene — victory  for  a  time — his  will 
be  done.  I  submit  to  it  for  me  and  mine.  His  in- 
scrutable purposes  may  bring  together  all  his  children 
in  the  end." 

"Father!"  said  the  girl,  with  a  solemnity  beyond 
her  years,  "if  you  could  only  enter  into  the  great 
church  of  the  Holy  Wisdom,  and,  while  the  choir 
chant  their  'Holy,  Holy,  Holy!'  look  up  to  the  figures 
of  Christ  the  Saviour,  and  the  Mother  of  God,  you 
would  feel  that  it  is  not  false  when  they  say  that  the 
faith  of  the  Cross  is  a  spirit  of  love,  mercy,  and  rec- 
onciliation, and  that  it  offers  a  new  heaven  to  us 
poor  women,  and  makes  us  in  religion  the  true  peers 
and  helpmates  of  men!" 

Struck  by  a  tone  so  strange  in  a  Saracen  girl,  by  the 
earnestness  of  his  daughter's  appeal,  the  old  chief 
turned  to  his  child  with  a  searching  look,  and  said, 
"But  you  have  no  thought,  my  best  beloved  one,  of 
remaining  for  life  in  that  convent,  of  becoming  what 
they  call  a  bride  of  Christ?" 

"Never  will  I  take  the  veil.  I  am  not  worthy.  I 
should  never  be  at  peace  there,"  she  replied,  with  deep 
emphasis,  but  in  broken  sentences,  "Never!"  And  as 
the  old  man  searched  her  look,  a  soft  blush  seemed  to 

3°4 


Islam  and   Cross 

show  itself  in  her  olive  cheek.     Silence  followed,  and 
both  of  them  thought. 

"But,  oh,  how  sweet  and  good  and  wise  is  the  Lady- 
Agatha!"  the  girl  suddenly  resumed;  "she  has  taught 
me  so  much,  helped  me  in  all  things,  and  made  me  feel 
as  if  I  were  a  sister,  one  of  her  own  faith  and  race.  She 
knows  by  heart  the  Greek  poems  of  Homer,  both  those 
about  Troy  and  about  Ithaca,  of  Achilles  and  Priam, 
and  of  Odysseus  and  Penelope,  and  Hector  and  Androm- 
ache; and  yesterday  she  recited  part  of  the  tragedy 
of  '  CEdipus  at  Colonus.'  She  is  so  sweet  and  thought- 
ful and  brave,  after  all  she  had  to  bear.  And,  father, 
I  am  to  be  one  of  her  bridesmaids  when  she  is  married 
next  month,  if  the  empress  will  consent." 

"And  whom  is  she  about  to  marry?"  asked  the 
chief,  carelessly. 

"Why,  don't  you  know,  father,  it  is  the  Lord  Basil 
Digenes,  the  warden  of  the  marches,  the  favorite 
lieutenant  and  friend  of  the  emperor!" 

"What !  the  son  of  the  emir  of  Edessa,  he  who  struck 
us  so  hard  at  Chandax,"  said  the  old  chief,  with  a  groan. 
"Yes,  yes;  he  who  was  saved  by  the  daughter  of  Ben 
Senoussi  in  prison,  and  who  saved  her  in  the  great  de- 
feat. So,  the  blood  of  the  Prophet  of  Mecca,  after  all, 
is  to  be  mingled  with  the  blood  of  the  Constantines  of 
Roum.  It  is  the  will  of  Allah!  Let  us  bow  to  it  with 
reverence  and  submission." 

The  old  emir  rose,  and,  going  to  his  prayer-carpet, 
turned  towards  the  tomb  of  the  Prophet,  devoutly  pros- 
trated himself,  and  performed  his  mid-day  devotions. 

The  girl  meanwhile  drew  aside  in  silence,  crossing 
herself,  and  fingering  her  own  chain  and  cross,  she  ut- 
tered fervent  prayers  to  the  Mother  of  God. 

305 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

When  Abd-el-Aziz  returned  to  his  divan  she  took 
his  hand,  kissed  it,  and  said,  "Father,  does  it  give  you 
a  pang  to  think  that  one  of  our  people,  if  truly  con- 
verted to  the  faith  of  the  Cross,  should  mate  with  a  fol- 
lower of  Christ?  What  would  you  say  if  my  brother 
Anemas  took  him  a  wife  from  the  Byzantine  court?" 

"What  Allah  decrees  it  is  not  for  us  to  gainsay," 
said  the  emir,  somewhat  oracularly.  "The  warden 
of  the  marches  is  a  noble  soldier  and  a  true  knight,  be 
his  faith  what  it  may.  But  I  thought  he  might  have 
wedded  the  Lady  Fatima,  whom  he  saved,  and  who 
saved  him  from  death." 

"He  was  born  and  bred  a  Roman  and  a  Christian," 
she  said,  "and  he  loved  the  Lady  Agatha  before  she 
was  my  age.  I  saw  him  at  the  court  reception,  look- 
ing every  inch  a  hero  and  a  prince,  along  with  his  two 
lieutenants,  who  seemed  worthy  of  such  a  place." 

"And  who  are  they?"  asked  the  chief,  quickly. 
"Anemas,  I  know,  is  one,  but  who  is  the  other?" 

"Do  you  not  know?"  she  answered  at  last,  distinctly 
blushing  as  her  father  watched  her.  "The  other  is  the 
young  Norwegian  prince,  just  promoted  to  be  colonel 
in  the  imperial  guard." 

"And  is  he,  too,  Roman  and  Christian?"  asked  her 
father,  promptly. 

"He  is  high  in  honor  with  the  emperor,  and  was 
baptized  as  a  youth.  He  has  seen  battle  in  five  coun- 
tries; for  all  that  he  is  but  four-and-twenty.  He  is 
the  tallest  of  all  these  battle-axe  guardsmen,  and  as 
fair-skinned  as  the  fairest  lady  of  the  court.  But  he 
can  hardly  speak  Greek  yet,  and  does  not  look  in  the 
least  like  a  Roman  or  a  Greek.  He  has  blue  eyes  and 
long  hair,  of  the  color  of  silk  from  the  cocoon.     And 

306 


Islam  and  Cross 

his  battle-axe  is  so  enormously  heavy  that  when  he 
let  me  take  it  in  my  hand  to  feel  its  weight,  it  fell  to 
the  ground  with  a  crash,"  the  girl  rattled  on. 

"Have  you  spoken  with  him,  my  daughter?"  the 
old  man  peremptorily  asked. 

"Once,"  she  said,  "in  the  open  court,  as  we  came 
from  the  Magnaura;  I  was  with  the  Lady  Agatha, 
when  the  warden  and  his  officers  came  up,  and  Ane- 
mas  presented  to  me  his  young  comrade  in  arms.  He 
bowed,  and  smiled,  and  said  nice  things  in  his  broken 
Greek,  but  he  looked  so  tremendous  in  his  golden  coat 
of  mail,  and  his  casque  and  plume,  that  I  could  hardly 
answer  him,  father,"  she  murmured;  and,  as  the  sire 
still  looked  at  her,  she  blushed  again. 

"And  did  you  see  the  famous  empress?"  asked  the 
father,  wishing  to  make  the  girl  talk  of  other  things. 

"Oh  yes!  the  crash  of  the  battle-axe,  when  I  let  it 
drop  on  the  marble  pavement,  amused  the  royal  circle. 
The  little  boy  princes  laughed  aloud,  and  Basil  cried 
out  that  girls  should  not  handle  weapons,  and  the  em- 
press stepped  forward  and  flashed  upon  me  with  her 
great  eyes,  and  asked  who  I  was.  She  is  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  the  world.  Those  beside  her  look 
like  slaves.  But  when  she  stared  at  me  with  her  im- 
perious look,  I  felt  that  I  should  faint,  if  Anemas  had 
not  taken  my  arm  and  led  me  away.  Father,  there  is 
nothing  in  all  Rome  so  lovely,  so  bewitching,  so  ter- 
rible!" 

"And  she  is  absolute  mistress  of  our  conqueror. 
Allah!  the  just,  the  merciful,  thy  stricken  people  will 
be  avenged  at  last!" 

Here  the  conversation  of  father  and  daughter  was 
interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Anemas  himself.     The 

307 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century- 
old  emir's 'son  was  now  about  five-and-twenty,  of  the 
finest  Arab  type,  spare,  sinewy,  and  finely  propor- 
tioned. His  limbs,  hands,  and  feet  were  delicate  and 
supple.  His  features  were  sharply  cut,  handsome,  and 
intelligent;  the  tint,  a  pure  brown,  with  keen,  black 
eyes,  and  a  short,  curled  beard  of  jetty  hue.  He  re- 
sembled the  lord  warden,  but  was  slighter  and  darker, 
for  he  was  of  pure  Fatimite  descent,  and  had  no  Euro- 
pean blood  in  his  veins.  He  wore  his  uniform  as  an 
officer  of  the  body-guard,  and  bore  himself  as  what  he 
was,  a  brilliant  soldier  of  that  splendid  and  renowned 
corps. 

He  greeted  his  father  with  profound  respect  and  af- 
fection, for,  Roman  and  Christian  as  he  had  become, 
he  held  fast  to  the  ceremonial  traditions  of  his  ancient 
race.  He  kissed  his  sister,  and,  by  a  look,  encouraged 
her  to  leave  them  for  a  conference  alone. 

"Father,"  said  the  gallant  youth,  standing  before 
his  sire's  divan  in  an  attitude  of  deep  respect  and  af- 
fection, "  I  am  come  to  ask  your  blessing  and  to  claim 
your  advice.  I  was  preparing  to  be  ordered  with  my  own 
corps  on  service  in  the  new  Bulgarian  war,  and  I  burned 
to  show  these  proud  Byzantines  that  a  son  of  Abd-el- 
Aziz  can  hold  his  own  with  the  bravest  swords  of  Rome. 
For  three  years  I  have  worn  the  imperial  uniform,  but 
have  never  yet  seen  action  in  their  ranks.  They  shall 
see  the  son  of  the  great  emir  challenge  to  single  com- 
bat the  foremost  champion  in  the  enemies'  host.  And 
the  name  of  Anemas  shall  live  in  the  annals  of  Byzan- 
tine glory." 

"Go,  my  son,"  the  old  man  broke  in,  "go  and  prove 
yourself  a  true  soldier  of  the  race  of  AH.  Even  in  the 
uniform  of  our  conquerors  you  will  do  honor  to  our  blood. ' ' 

308 


Islam  and  Cross 

"But,  alas!  my  father,  there  is  an  obstacle  to  my 
joining  my  corps.  The  emperor  has  need  of  some 
diplomatic  relations  with  the  Fatimite  caliph  of  Kair- 
ouan.  You  know  that,  after  the  disasters  of  the  im- 
perial armies  and  fleet  in  Sicily,  and  the  death  of  the 
emperor's  cousin  at  Rametta,  the  general  -  in  -  chief , 
Nicetas,  was  taken  prisoner,  and  has  been  detained  by 
Al  Muizz,  the  caliph,  in  El  Mehdia,  on  the  African 
coast.  Nicephorus  ardently  desires  peace  with  both 
caliphs  of  Kairouan  and  of  Cordova,  as  all  three  king- 
doms are  closely  pressed  by  the  growing  power  of 
Otto,  the  Teuton  emperor  of  the  west.  And  he  is 
anxious  to  obtain  the  ransom  of  his  beloved  officer  and 
friend,  Nicetas.  The  embassy  to  Muizz  is  to  be  head- 
ed by  the  patrician  Nicholas.  But  they  designate 
me,  as  a  descendant  of  the  Prophet,  to  be  his  secretary 
and  second,  and  persona  grata,  to  a  Fatimite  sovereign. 
As  an  officer  of  the  guard,  I  cannot  refuse  such  a  com- 
mand. But  if  I  go  to  Africa,  I  shall  lose  all  chance  of 
joining  the  Bulgarian  campaign.  I  come  to  beg  you, 
father,  to  petition  the  emperor  that  he  may  employ 
my  sword  in  war,  and  not  my  tongue  in  diplomatic 
wrangles." 

"You  are  young,  my  son,"  said  the  old  chief,  in  a 
meditative  tone,  as  if  weighing  the  future  in  his  mind; 
"you  will  have  ample  opportunities  of  meeting  in  bat- 
tle these  barbarians  of  the  north — your  day  of  glory 
may  come — ah!  only  too  soon  it  may  be,  for  your  fa- 
ther's peace — but  the  opportunity  of  seeing  our  own 
people  again  on  the  African  coast  is  not  to  be  lost.  It 
will  be  noble  revenge  for  me  that  our  conqueror  has 
need  of  my  son  to  restore  his  honor,  and  to  rescue  his 
commander  from  a  Saracen  prison.     You  will  never 

3°9 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

have  such  a  mission  again.  You  have  twenty  years 
yet  to  fight  the  Bulgars.  No;  go  to  Kairouan,  and 
take  to  the  caliph  there  a  message  from  a  Roman 
prison,  that  the  defeated  emir  of  Crete  does  not  de- 
spair of  Islam." 

The  son  submitted,  and  took  a  dutiful  and  loving 
farewell  of  his  sire;  and,  seeing  his  sister  in  the  terrace 
below,  he  hurried  forth  to  give  her  his  news.  The 
young  Sophia,  who  now  had  but  dim  memories  of  her 
life  as  a  Saracen  child  of  the  harem,  was  far  more  truly 
converted  to  Rome  and  to  the  Cross  than  her  brother, 
and  had  absorbed  the  religion  of  the  Virgin  Mother 
with  all  the  ecstatic  fervor  of  a  Christian  girl.  Her 
keen  intelligence,  and  her  experience  of  the  Sacred 
Palace,  showed  her  the  importance  such  a  mission 
would  prove  to  her  brother,  her  father,  and  all  the  sur- 
vivors of  Crete.  She  warmly  pressed  her  brother  to 
make  the  most  of  his  good  fortune,  and  by  no  means 
to  attempt  any  escape  from  the  task. 

Long  and  tenderly  the  brother  and  sister  poured  out 
their  hearts  to  each  other,  till  at  last  Sophia  found 
courage  to  say,  "Brother,  I,  too,  have  a  mission  for 
you  in  the  far  west.  There  is  another  caliphate  in 
Andalusia — how  many  more  caliphs  there  may  be  in 
Asia  and  in  Africa  I  know  not — but  Hakim,  the  new 
caliph  of  Cordova,  whose  ambassadors  are  now  in  the 
city,  is  on  terms  of  amity  with  Rome.  At  his  court 
still  lives,  in  strict  seclusion,  as  a  Saracen  girl  must  do, 
Fatima,  the  daughter  of  Ben  Senoussi,  my  own  dear- 
est cousin,  from  whom  I  have  had,  as  I  have  told  you, 
sad  but  loving  greetings.  Go  from  Africa  to  Spain 
with  the  embassy  about  to  start,  under  Theodosius 
the  deacon  and  Michael  the  secretary ;  obtain  a  place 

310 


Islam  and  Cross 

in  their  mission,  but  contrive  a  meeting  with  Fatima. 
I  will  trust  you  with  presents  from  me.  Urge  her 
from  me  to  come  to  visit  us  here  in  my  father's  man- 
sion. I  long  to  see  her.  I  yearn  to  try  if  she  can  be 
led  to  see  how  much  a  woman  gains  when  she  accepts 
the  Cross  and  learns  to  pray  at  the  altar  of  the  Mother 
of  God." 

"It  is  impossible.  She  would  not  see  me  —  she 
would  not  listen  to  a  word  from  me,  if  she  did  see  me. 
It  is  impossible.  Sister,  say  no  more,"  said  the  young 
guardsman,  with  an  air  of  dejection. 

"Anemas,  you  have  not  ceased  to  love  her?  You 
loved  her,  you  have  told  me,  when  you  were  both  of 
the  same  age,  and  I  remember  how  fit  to  be  loved  she 
was." 

"Yes;  she  was  kind,  good,  merciful,  but  she  never 
really  loved  me,  much  as  we  had  been  together.  But 
from  the  hour  she  saw  the  Roman  prisoner,  her  cousin, 
the  Lord  Basil  Digenes,  she  could  think  of  no  one  but 
him,  and  for  his  sake  she  has  lived  in  solitude  ever 
since." 

"He  will  have  been  married  to  Princess  Agatha  long 
before  you  can  reach  Spain.  Seek  her  again,  Anemas, 
urge  your  own  love,  and  when  she  hears  of  this  mar- 
riage she  will  listen.  Bring  her  to  me.  Anemas,  she 
shall  be  your  bride,  or  else  the  bride  of  Christ!" 

Anemas  was  despatched  on  his  mission  to  the  caliph 
of  Kairouan,  Al  Muizz,  then  at  the  height  of  his  glory. 
The  Roman  embassy,  after  touching  at  Messina  and 
Syracuse,  crossed  to  the  port  of  El  Mehdia,  then  in  its 
era  of  prosperity  and  power.  The  Roman  envoys 
were  amazed  to  find  on  the  African  coast  another  Sara- 
cen kingdom,  almost  as  splendid  and  as  nourishing  as 

311 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  caliph-ate  of  Andalusia  itself.  The  docks  of  the 
African  seaport  were  crowded  with  ships  from  Syria, 
Alexandria,  Sicily,  and  Spain,  with  galleys  from  Venice, 
Pisa,  and  Amalphi.  The  palaces  of  Muizz  and  of  his 
chief  emirs  were  almost  as  rich  and  luxurious  as  those 
of  Abd-er-Rahman  himself  at  Cordova.  The  culture  of 
the  Fatimite  court  of  Kairouan  was  not  equal  to  that 
of  the  Ommeyads  of  Spain,  and  the  civilization  of  the 
African  people  was  not  so  advanced  as  that  of  the  long- 
settled  Cordovan  dynasty  of  the  west.  But  the  mili- 
tary energy  and  movement  of  troopers  was  even  more 
conspicuous.  For  at  this  very  season  the  caliph  was 
preparing  the  vast  expedition  which  a  few  years  after- 
wards was  destined  to  march  into  Egypt,  and,  under 
the  famous  commander  Jouhar,  to  transfer  the  dy- 
nasty to  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  and  to  found  at  Kahira 
the  modern  city  of  Cairo.  It  was  the  preparation  for 
this  great  revolution  in  the  world  of  Islam  which  the 
young  Anemas  was  able  to  witness. 

The  mission  was  successful;  peace  was  made  be- 
tween Muizz  and  Nicephorus,  for  both  had  other  ene- 
mies to  meet  and  other  conquests  to  win.  And  Ane- 
mas, in  returning,  adopted  his  sister's  advice,  and  had 
no  difficulty  in  finding  an  honorable  welcome  in  the 
Andalusian  capital  of  Hakim  II.  As  the  son  of  Abd- 
el-Aziz,  the  old  kouropas,  and  as  the  brother  of  Sophia, 
he  had  at  last  obtained  an  interview  with  Fatima, 
who  lived  with  her  sister  and  aunts  in  a  retired  villa 
that  had  been  assigned  to  them  in  the  mountains  of 
the  Sierra  Morena,  north  of  Cordova. 

Fatima  received  Anemas  in  the  terrace  of  their  gar- 
den looking  out  towards  the  east  upon  the  mountains 
of  Granada.     She  was  accompanied  by  her  young  sis- 

312 


Islam  and  Cross 

ter,  as  if  she  had  resolved  not  to  listen  to  a  word  of 
love.  Fatima  was  now  in  the  full  maturity  of  her 
beauty,  to  which  a  life  of  meditation  and  solitude  had 
given  a  peculiar  aspect  of  spiritual  refinement.  She 
had  always  refused  that  close  veiling  and  seclusion  of 
women  which  had  begun  to  spread  over  the  Moslem 
world.  She  asked  rapid  questions  as  to  her  dear  So- 
phia, whom  she  remembered  almost  as  a  child;  as  to 
the  aged  emir,  who  had  so  stoutly  defended  Crete,  the 
nature  of  his  imprisonment,  and  the  treatment  that 
the  Cretan  captives  had  received  at  Byzantium:  Was 
dear  little  Sophia  really  a  Christian,  and  about  to  be  a 
nun?  Was  she  happy?  Had  she  quite  forgotten  her 
father's  faith  and  people?  Was  the  kouropas  held  in 
honor,  and  was  he  at  peace,  and  was  he  satisfied  with 
his  lot  ? 

These  and  such  questions  she  eagerly  poured  out  to 
her  young  compatriot  from  the  Byzantine  court. 

Anemas  answered  her  questions  truthfully,  and  at 
length.  And,  in  turn,  he  put  to  her  some  similar  ques- 
tions of  his  own: 

Was  she  satisfied  with  her  life  in  a  Spanish  retreat  ? 
Would  she  live  and  die  in  a  mountain  hermitage  ?  Was 
this  the  destiny  of  Islam?  Were  not  the  followers  of 
the  Prophet  as  much  divided  among  themselves  as  the 
followers  of  Christ  ?  Could  true  believers  in  the  Koran 
still  feel  that  Allah  was  purposed  to  lead  them  ever  on 
to  victory?  Could  she  wonder  if  a  soldier  felt  that 
true  religion  taught  him  to  serve  his  commander  and 
be  faithful  to  the  standard  under  which  he  was  sworn, 
and  to  the  land  in  which  God  had  destined  him  to 
live?  Did  she  not  think  that  an  officer  was  doing  his 
duty  if  he  gave  his  life  to  his  service,  and  left  the  mys- 

3i3 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

teries  of  Heaven  to  the  imaums  of  Islam,  or  to  the 
patriarchs  of  Christ? 

"There  is  but  one  God,"  she  said,  with  profound 
earnestness;  "I  know  but  one  God,  and  I  care  not  if 
he  be  named  the  Trinity  or  Allah.  I  have  lived  so 
long  in  this  Andalusian  caliphate,  I  have  seen  enough 
of  the  Romans  of  the  empire."  She  sighed  as  she 
uttered  that  name.  "I  have  seen  and  heard  enough 
to  know  that  Christendom  and  Islam  have  each  much 
that  is  godlike  and  good,  and  much  that  is  of  Sheitan 
and  evil.  This  splendid  capital  of  Cordova  is  in  many 
things,  in  most  things,  the  counterpart  of  Byzantium, 
as  rich,  as  luxurious,  as  corrupt,  as  elegant,  as  turbu- 
lent. These  Ommeyads  here  execrate  the  Fatimites — 
Abbasides  from  the  first  contend  with  Kharijis.  There 
are  as  many  sects  among  Mussulmans  as  there  are 
among  Christians,  as  many  dynasties,  as  many  wars. 
Bagdad,  Damascus,  Haleb,  Antioch,  Edessa,  Fostat, 
Kairouan,  Andalusia,  war  on  each  other  as  often  as 
Byzantine,  Bulgarian,  Lombard,  Calabrian,  Frank,  or 
Saxon.  Whether  it  be  Allah  and  his  Prophet  or 
Christ  and  His  Mother  who  inspire  these  rivalries  and 
combats,  I  know  not.  All  that  I  know  is  that  it  is  not 
the  one  God." 

"Does  not  Christendom,  with  its  culture  and  its 
freedom,  its  poetry,  its  art,  its  ritual,  offer,  at  least  to 
women,  a  richer,  nobler  life?  So  my  sister  Sophia 
asserts,  and  longs  to  show  you.  Oh!  that  you  could 
be  persuaded  to  visit  her  in  my  father's  house  at 
Prote,  and  see  our  Byzantine  world,  our  Christian 
Church!" 

"The  Byzantine  world,"  she  said,  sadly,  "differs  not 
so  very  much  from  our  Cordovan  world.     It  may  have 

3U 


S    UlMi 

Islam  and  Cross\ 

more  art,  more  ceremony,  more  priests  and  nuns  I 
dare  believe,  but  it  has  less  poetry,  less  science,  less 
philosophy,  less  learning.  Its  women  have  a  freer  life 
— it  may  be  a  happier  and  a  wiser.  Its  men  are  less 
chivalrous,  and  faithful,  and  resolute.  There  may  be 
more  saints  in  Christendom.  There  are  more  heroes 
in  Islam." 

"Has  not  Christendom  its  heroes,  too?"  he  asked, 
suddenly,  looking  at  her  with  passionate  devotion. 

"God  forbid  that  I  should  doubt  it,"  she  said,  with 
a  deep  sigh.  Silence  ensued,  and  each  could  feel  the 
tremor  in  the  soul  of  the  other.  Rapturous  memories 
and  cruel  sorrows  crowded  through  the  mind  of  the 
woman.  Eager  hopes  rose  in  the  mind  of  the  man. 
They  gazed  upon  each  other  in  silence.  At  length, 
as  she  looked  at  the  young  chief,  Fatima  saw  again 
in  the  young  Anemas  the  strange  blending  of  the  Sara- 
cen and  the  Roman,  that  figure  which,  for  long  years, 
had  been  the  warrior-saint  of  her  inmost  dreams  and 
devotions.  Anemas,  too,  was  now  spiritually  a  Digenes 
himself,  with  the  heroic  temper  of  Saracen  and  of 
Crusader  compounded  in  one. 

"Can  I  never  hope  to  utter  those  words  which  have 
been  on  my  lips  in  my  long  journey  to  this  land?"  he 
said,  and,  seizing  her  hand,  he  held  her  close  to  him — 
gazing  into  her  eyes  with  passion  and  devotion.  "Can 
I  hope?" 

She  suffered  her  hand  to  remain  for  an  instant  in 
his  grasp.  "It  is  too  late  in  my  life  for  me  to  change 
my  creed — my  home — my  people.  It  is  too  late  in 
life  for  me  to  think  of  happiness.  I  will  live  and  die 
here  a  lonely  woman,  who  has  known  too  much  sorrow 
to  dream  of  being  happy,  or  of  making  any  one  happy." 

3i5 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

She  paused,  and,  looking  at  the  young  soldier  again 
with  tender  compassion,  she  added,  "I  must  think 
over  my  message  which  I  mean  to  send  your  sister  and 
your  father.  Yes;  I  will  see  you  again  before  we 
part." 


XXII 

The  Stars  in  Their  Courses 

IT  was  midnight  of  a  dark  and  still  evening  on  the 
Bosphorus,  and  peace  had,  for  the  most  part,  de- 
scended upon  the  great  city;  the  lamps  in  the  houses 
were  extinguished,  and  the  tramp  of  the  sentries  and 
the  challenges  of  the  watch  alone  were  heard.  The 
harbor  lights  in  the  Golden  Horn,  at  the  point  of 
Keras,  burned  steadily,  and  across  the  straits  shone 
the  imperial  light-house  of  Chrysopolis.  Within  the 
walls  of  the  Sacred  Palace  the  central  pharos  stood 
forth  in  its  lofty  tower  and  cast  its  glare  far  out  into 
the  Propontis.  Out  of  the  gloom  there  passed,  within 
the  circle  of  its  rays,  a  light  skiff  rowed  by  stout  boat- 
men, wherein  were  seated  two  men,  closely  wrapped 
in  long,  dark  cloaks,  which  served  as  a  disguise.  One 
was  blindfolded,  and  was  patiently  listening  to  the  in- 
structions of  his  companion  and  guide. 

Psellus,  a  cubicular  attendant  attached  to  the  per- 
son of  the  Basilissa,  was  explaining  in  a  low  voice  the 
business  on  which  his  charge,  Aaron  Ben  Ammon,  had 
been  summoned  to  exercise  his  art.  Aaron  was  a  Jew, 
originally  of  Alexandria,  in  Egypt,  who  had  studied 
astrology,  necromancy,  alchemy,  and  many  of  the 
black  arts,  first  from  heretical  anchorites  of  the  The- 
bais,  and  afterwards  in  Bagdad  and  Damascus,  as  well 

3i7 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

as  in  Armenian  and  Byzantine  cloisters.  His  profound 
learning  in  the  casting  of  horoscopes,  in  extracting 
prophecies  by  occult  sorceries,  in  the  procuring  love 
philters,  and  occasionally,  it  was  whispered,  even  more 
insidious  drugs,  had  gained  him  a  sinister  fame,  which 
made  him  in  great  demand  in  the  Byzantine  world  of 
fashion,  while  it  made  his  profession  one  of  personal 
risk.  The  growing  taste  for  these  unholy  experiences 
among  the  great  ladies  of  the  empire  had  caused  the 
government  of  late  to  be  strict  in  putting  the  law  in 
motion,  while  the  patriarch  was  even  more  keen  to 
punish  the  adepts  of  these  arts  by  the  resources  within 
the  power  of  the  Church.  Aaron,  therefore,  had  will- 
ingly submitted  to  be  carried  disguised  and  blind- 
folded to  an  interview  with  a  person  unknown,  in  a 
spot  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  reveal. 

"Most  learned  doctor,"  said  Psellus,  as  he  slipped 
into  the  hand  of  Aaron  a  heavy  purse  of  bezants,  "a 
lady  of  wealth,  whose  name,  abode,  and  position  you 
will  forbear  to  seek  if  you  value  your  life,  and  who 
will  double  and  treble  this  largess  if  you  act  with  ab- 
solute discretion,  will  herself  explain  to  you  in  person 
her  purpose,  and  she  desires  to  receive  from  your  own 
hand  the  horoscopes  of  those  persons  of  whose  nativ- 
ities I  have  already  given  you  the  exact  day  and  hour. 
Of  these  you  are  now  to  bring  the  result  of  your  astral 
investigations." 

"Lead  me  to  her  ladyship;  her  will  is  my  law.  Si- 
lence, discretion,  disguise  are  as  needful  to  me  as  to 
my  client  —  ay,  much  more  so,  were  it  not  that  Ash- 
modai  watches  over  the  lives  of  those  whose  eyes  he 
has  opened." 

Psellus  listened  intently  to  these  last  words  of  the 
3i8 


The  Stars  in  Their  Courses 

astrologer,  for  part  of  his  instructions  had  been  that 
on  the  return  journey,  if  the  sign  had  been  given,  he 
was  to  have  the  Jew  drowned  in  the  Bosphorus,  to  se- 
cure his  absolute  discretion.  They  now  passed  into 
the  imperial  harbor  of  Boucoleon,  and,  mooring  the 
boat  to  the  quay,  after  giving  the  countersign  to  the 
guard,  proceeded  to  ascend  the  path  up  from  the  sea 
towards  the  pharos,  which  now  shone  over  the  chry- 
sotriclinium  of  the  imperial  palace.  Guiding  the  Jew 
with  his  left  hand,  Psellus  drew  him  past  the  chapel 
of  Elias  and  the  oratory  of  St.  Clement,  to  the  cor- 
ner of  the  terrace  of  the  new  basilica.  There  a  small 
robing -room  stood  in  the  great  garden  surrounding 
the  new  church,  and  communicated  by  a  winding 
staircase  with  the  upper  rooms  of  the  Sacred  Palace. 
Psellus  now  removed  the  bandage  from  Aaron's  eyes, 
placed  him  on  a  couch,  and  desired  him  to  wait  the  ap- 
proach of  his  client.  Nor  was  there  anything  visible 
in  this  garden  dressing-room  to  distinguish  it  from  an 
ordinary  apartment  in  any  of  the  mansions  of  the  city 
or  suburbs. 

Presently  a  majestic  and  graceful  woman  glided  into 
the  room — she  was  wrapped  in  a  great  black  cloak, 
and  closely  veiled.  She  motioned  to  the  attendants 
to  withdraw,  and  to  the  astrologer  to  approach. 

"Most  learned  doctor  of  astral  science,"  she  said,  in 
her  clear,  soft  voice  of  command,  "you  have  brought 
me  the  calculations  your  learning  has  enabled  you  to 
make  as  to  the  future  of  the  persons  whose  nativities 
were  supplied  to  you?" 

"Your  Eminence  shall  be  satisfied.  The  horoscopes 
of  both  are  the  most  wonderful  that  our  science  has 
ever  revealed  to  me.     They  indicate  most   amazing 

3J9 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

changes-of  life,  incredible  splendor  of  ascent,  and  signs 
of  imminent  peril." 

"Call  me  simply  lady — I  am  no  more,"  said  The- 
ophano, "and  give  me  the  details  of  each  horoscope." 

The  astrologer  was  a  swarthy,  spare  old  Hebrew, 
with  hooked  nose  and  fine  features,  distinguished  by 
eyes  of  intense  keenness,  though  they  had  a  sinister 
aspect,  like  those  of  a  trapped  beast.  Theophano 
watched  him  behind  her  yashmak  as  closely  as  he  did 
her,  for  ever  and  anon  he  stole  furtive  glances  at  her, 
hoping  to  penetrate  her  secret. 

"The  first  whose  nativity  I  have  calculated  is  that 
of  one  born  fifty-six  years,  one  hundred  and  thirteen 
days,  and  seven  hours,  from  this  moment.  It  was  a 
birth  under  the  sign  of  the  Lion,  at  an  hour  charged 
with  vast  possibilities  in  the  future.  At  that  instant 
the  zodiac  was  moved  by  portentous  lights,  and  the 
earth  shook  with  tremors,  as  I  have  ascertained  in  the 
records  of  our  art  that  are  stored  in  the  great  observa- 
tory at  Antakia  in  Syria.  There  lived  and  studied  the 
mighty  seer,  Mohammed  Ben  Djafar,  of  Batan.my  ever 
revered  lord  and  master." 

"But  what  has  been  the  horoscope  of  this  child  of 
miracle  and  wonder?"  she  said,  hurriedly,  caring  little 
for  the  pompous  claims  of  the  Jew. 

"'The  right  ascension  into  the  mansion  of  life  and 
glory'  tells  of  a  career  of  battle,  victory,  and  fame, 
which,  at  the  hour  wherein  we  are,  forms  one  unbroken 
career  of  success  and  triumph." 

"Most  learned  doctor,"  said  the  empress,  peremp- 
torily, "what  are  the  signs  of  the  future?  What  is 
passed  and  gone  we  all  know  without  the  science  of 
Mohammed  of  Batan,  whom  here  we  call  Albatenius, 

320 


The  Stars  in  Their  Courses 

and  without  the  aid  of  your  most  profound  self,  Doc- 
tor Ben  Amnion.  What  of  the  future  of  this  person, 
I  ask?" 

"Madam,  I  hesitate  to  impart  to  you  what  I  have 
found,"  said  the  Jew,  with  a  cunning  look  as  he  sought 
her  eyes ;  "it  is  terrible.  The  declination  to  the  ' house 
of  death'  stands  close  to  the  right  ascension  to  the 
'house  of  life.' " 

Theophano  gave  a  sudden  start  in  spite  of  her  self- 
control.  Her  piercing  eyes,  which  she  unveiled  to 
watch  the  Jew,  gleamed  with  a  light  of  joy.  She 
stretched  out  her  hand  from  her  wrappings  to  take  the 
scroll,  whereon  the  astrologer  had  marked  the  rise  and 
fall  of  the  star  record.  As  she  put  out  her  arm,  the 
keen  astrologer  noticed  the  flash  of  a  superb  armlet  of 
rubies,  such  as  he  well  knew  could  only  be  found  in  the 
imperial  treasury.  And  now,  having  his  first  suspi- 
cions confirmed,  he  felt  sure  that  he  recognized  the 
wonderful  eyes  of  Anastasia,  the  daughter  of  Craterus 
the  Laconian.  Years  ago,  Ben  Ammon  had  frequent 
dealings  with  Craterus,  whom  he  had  supplied  with 
amulets,  charms,  trinkets,  and  gems  from  Egypt,  Syria, 
and  Mesopotamia,  and  had  often  noticed  the  beauty 
of  the  girl,  and,  indeed,  had  cast  her  horoscope  with 
a  brilliant  future.  Aaron  now  felt  sure  that  he  was 
confronted  by  the  empress  herself.  Astrologers,  in  an- 
cient as  in  modern  ages,  have  been  far  more  physiog- 
nomists than  astronomers;  and,  in  his  further  conversa- 
tion, Aaron  thought  only  to  indulge  the  humors  or 
the  passions  of  his  sovereign,  and  repeated  the  jargon 
of  his  "science  "  only  to  mislead  and  excite  her. 

"Lady,"  he  said,  with  profound  solemnity,  watching 
her  expression  intently,  "it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  that 

321 


Theophano  :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

a  second  year  cannot  pass  from  this  hour  before  this 
person  shall  find  death  —  death,  sudden,  alas!  and 
shameful."  She  gleamed  again,  and  her  frame  thrilled. 
Aaron  continued  in  the  same  voice  of  a  prophet.  "He 
(or  is  it  she?)  will  die  hated,  unlamented,  and  de- 
spised. The  stars  so  reveal  to  us  the  book  of  fate." 
Silence  ensued. 

"And  now,  what  of  the  second  nativity  you  have 
calculated?"  she  asked,  at  length. 

"It  is  even  more  wonderful  than  that  of  the  first. 
For  twenty-nine  years,  less  three  months  and  thirteen 
days,  the  stars  have  shown  in  the  ascendant.  Born 
under  the  culmination  of  Venus,  coincident  with  her 
superior  conjunctions  at  every  stage  of  life,  this  horo- 
scope is  plainly  that  of  a  woman,  of  the  most  beautiful 
woman  on  God's  earth,  a  woman  whose  beauty  has 
been  one  long  triumph,  with  but  one  darker  sign  in  all 
its  course." 

"And  that  is  what?"  she  asked,  with  an  audible 
gasp. 

"Lady,  I  hesitate  to  tell  it;  there  is  at  this  very 
time  an  ominous  sign.  The  gorgeous  planet  Venus, 
who  rules  the  sky  by  her  brilliance,  is  passing  now  from 
east  elongation  towards  inferior  conjunction.  She  is 
now  being  obscured  by  too  close  attendance  on  a  lower 
and  less  honorable  star." 

Theophano  held  her  breath.  "What  comes  after?" 
she  whispered. 

"Lady,  the  synodic  period  of  Venus  is  almost  com- 
plete, and  it  portends  a  new  epoch  of  effulgence.  This 
woman,  for  these  conjunctions  can  belong  only  to  a 
woman,  is  about  to  free  herself  from  an  unworthy 
planetary    connection,    and    will    soon    ascend    again 

322 


The  Stars  in  Their  Courses 

into  a  house  of  glory  and  joy  still  greater  than  be- 
fore." 

"When  shall  that  be?"  she  gasped. 

"Lady,  it  may  be  retarded  by  events  or  it  may  be 
hastened  by  art." 

"And  what  is  destined  to  be  this  superior  conjunc- 
tion of  which  you  spoke?" 

"Lady,  the  lore  of  astral  combinations  does  not 
reveal  such  things.  But  palmistry  may  give  signs 
which  the  constellations  disdain  to  show.  Deign  to 
let  me  trace  the  lines  in  the  palm  of  your  hand." 

Flinging  aside  all  disguises,  Theophano,  in  her  eager- 
ness, put  her  palm  in  his.  He  bent  over  it  with  an 
air  of  profound  mystery,  muttering,  "the  line  of  life, 
the  line  of  love,  the  line  of  strength.  Lady,  these 
lines  make  it  manifest  that  you  are  mated  to  one  un- 
worthy of  you,  and  that  your  happiness  will  not  be 
assured  till  you  are  the  bride  of  one  who  is  more  youth- 
ful, more  glorious,  more  loving." 

"But  when — with  whom — how  will  it  be  brought 
about?"  she  gasped. 

"It  is  not  revealed  to  man  or  to  woman,  when,  with 
whom,  or  how  happiness  can  be  won.  But  art  may 
assist ;  it  may  hasten ;  it  may  cut  the  knot  which  binds 
us  to  misery.  Here,  lady,  are  two  rare  drugs,  each 
worth  a  king's  ransom,  which  I  had  from  the  great 
Abu  Djafar  Achmed  ben  Ibrahim.  One  is  in  silver, 
one  is  wrapped  in  lead.  The  silver  charm  is  a  love 
philter,  the  leaden  packet  will  relieve  one  of  an  enemy. 
No  man  on  this  side  of  the  Orontes  has  these  medicines, 
or  ever  has  had.  Nothing  less  than  the  jewel  on  your 
arm  to-night  would  buy  them,"  said  Aaron,  with  a 
gleam  of  avarice  in  his  eye. 

323 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Give  them  to  me,"  she  said,  in  a  cold,  firm  voice, 
and  slipped  the  ruby  armlet  from  her  wrist  into  his 
trembling  fingers. 

"Farewell,  learned  doctor,"  she  added,  with  cruel 
abruptness,  "guard  yourself  with  care,  for  the  city  is 
full  of  cutthroats."  And  she  summoned  Psellus  and 
her  guards.  "Conduct  the  learned  doctor  to  his  rest, 
and  be  careful  that  he  sleeps  soundly  to-night." 

"  Ashmodai,  my  lord  and  master,  guards  his  servant, 
lady,"  said  Aaron,  fawning,  and  yet  with  a  certain 
subdued  vein  of  menace. 

Psellus  looked  steadily  at  his  mistress,  with  inquiry 
for  the  concerted  sign.  She  did  not  blench,  but  re- 
peated again,  "See  that  he  sleeps  soundly  to-night.  I 
am  sure  that  Ashmodai  longs  to  see  his  own."  She 
passed  swiftly  behind  a  curtain  up  the  winding  stair, 
and  Aaron  allowed  himself  to  be  blindfolded  with  a 
heavy  shawl,  over  which  Psellus  and  his  assistants 
slipped  a  stout,  silken  noose.  This  rapid  manoeuvre 
Aaron,  busy  with  the  fingering  of  his  priceless  rubies, 
neither  saw  nor  felt.  Then  they  two  passed  into  the 
night,  and  the  skiff  shot  away  noiselessly  into  the 
blackness  of  the  waters  of  Propontis. 

As  the  morning  dawned,  some  fishermen,  dragging 
their  net  for  tunny  off  the  rock  we  call  the  "Tower  of 
Leander,"  pulled  up  the  body  of  an  old  man  clad  in  a 
loose  Oriental  gabardine.  The  city  police  found  in  his 
wallet  a  purse  of  one  hundred  bezants,  and  also  a  brace- 
let of  rubies  of  the  rarest  water.  At  noon,  the  bazaars 
rang  with  the  gossip  of  the  hour,  that  a  thief,  who  had 
broken  into  one  of  the  imperial  chambers,  and  stolen 
some  jewels,  had  been  caught,  and  flung  over  the 
southern  battlements,  but  some  insisted  that  he  had 

3  24 


The  Stars  in  Their  Courses 

been  drowned  in  trying  to  escape  with  his  plunder. 
The  next  day  a  new  crime  and  a  fresh  scandal  occupied 
the  forum  and  the  wine-shops,  while  Aaron  Ben  Am- 
nion "slept  soundly"  forevermore,  in  the  bosom  of 
father  Ashmoda'i. 

Theophano,  who  cared  little  for  the  mystical  jargon 
of  astrologers,  necromancers,  or  palmists,  could  not 
free  her  mind  from  dwelling  on  prophecies  which  so 
curiously  agreed  with  her  inmost  desires.  The  ascetic 
nature  of  Nicephorus,  his  devoutness,  his  zeal  in  the 
great  work  of  the  crusade  to  defend  Christendom  from 
Islam — all  were  profoundly  odious  to  his  wife,  and  had 
turned  her,  by  rapid  stages,  from  indifference  to  cold- 
ness, from  coldness  to  contempt,  and  from  contempt 
to  loathing.  She  longed  for  a  life  of  youth,  adventure, 
gayety,  and  pomp.  Romanus,  with  all  his  graces,  had 
nothing  heroic  about  him  but  his  passion  for  the  chase. 
Nicephorus  had  nothing  of  the  lover,  for  night  and 
day  his  thoughts  turned  to  councils  of  state  and  prep- 
arations for  war.  The  dreams  of  Theophano  were 
visions  of  an  Ares,  who  flung  aside  his  weapons  when 
he  flew  to  the  bower  of  his  own  Aphrodite. 

While  the  emperor  was  absent  on  his  short  Bul- 
garian expedition,  he  had  intrusted  to  his  empress, 
the  regent,  full  powers  of  authority.  And  these  she 
had  used  under  various  pretences  to  throw  obstacles 
in  the  way  of  the  marriage  of  Princess  Agatha  and 
Basil  Digenes,  the  lord  warden;  as,  being  a  princess 
of  the  royal  house,  and,  indeed,  after  her  infant  neph- 
ews, an  heiress  presumptive  to  the  throne,  Agatha 
could  not  marry  without  the  imperial  consent,  nor, 
in  truth,  could  the  lord  warden,  as  a  great  official, 
thwart  their  majesties  by  acting  in  defiance  of  them. 

325 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Consent  had  been  withheld  on  various  pretexts  from 
time  to  time,  and  no  sooner  was  Nicephorus  across  the 
Balkan  frontier  than  the  empress  discovered  a  reason 
of  state  which  caused  her  to  issue  a  peremptory  rejec- 
tion of  the  warden's  demand.  Theophano  insisted  on 
marrying  Agatha  to  the  Magistros  Sisinnios,  one  of  the 
imperial  marshals,  a  man  of  birth  and  wealth,  and  now 
entirely  a  creature  of  her  own. 

A  stormy  scene  had  just  taken  place  between  the 
princess  and  the  empress.  Agatha  refused  point- 
blank  to  marry  any  one  except  the  lord  warden.  She 
insisted  on  knowing  the  ground  on  which  their  majes- 
ties had  withdrawn  the  consent,  which  had  been  virtu- 
ally given  long  ago,  and  on  what  charges  the  lord 
warden's  suit  had  been  rejected. 

"His  Imperial  Majesty,"  said  Theophano,  "had  now 
discovered  the  dangerous  ambition  which  his  own  in- 
dulgent favor  had  aroused  in  the  mind  of  his  former 
favorite  lieutenant.  It  was  now  seen  that,  in  aspir- 
ing to  the  hand  of  a  Basilian  princess,  he  was  prepar- 
ing a  claim  to  the  throne  itself." 

"It  is  false,"  retorted  Agatha,  with  passion;  "let 
those  who  make  so  infamous  an  accusation  against  the 
most  loyal  spirit  in  this  empire  produce  their  evidence 
of  any  such  thought  or  attempt." 

"The  emperor  has  had  his  eyes  opened,  and  his 
ministers  will  in  good  time  produce  the  proofs  which 
their  vigilance  has  collected.  He  cannot  suffer  an  of- 
ficer convicted  of  such  dangerous  ambition  to  acquire 
the  manifest  advantage  of  alliance  with  the  house  of 
Basil." 

"The  lord  warden  can  prove  his  innocence  the  in- 
stant he  has  audience  of  his  emperor.     It  will  be  easy 

326 


The  Stars  in   Their  Courses 

to  show  him  that  his  mind  has  been  abused  with  mon- 
strous calumnies." 

"Agatha,  child,  fool,  listen  to  me,"  said  Theophano, 
with  a  cruel  smile.  "I  am  empress  here.  No  man 
knows  when  Nicephorus  will  return  from  the  war.  I 
and  my  council  have  resolved  that  Basil  Digenes  shall 
never  wed  a  daughter  of  our  dynasty.  The  throne, 
the  lives  of  my  young  sons,  would  not  be  safe  for  an 
hour — " 

"It  is  monstrous  —  it  is  inhuman  —  it  is  Satanic," 
broke  out  Agatha,  with  passion;  "the  sons  of  my  own 
brother,  am  I  to  be  their  murderess?"  and  she  sobbed 
with  indignation  and  rage. 

"Well,  your  husband  might  easily  be  their  murderer. 
Uncles,  and  even  aunts,  have  been  known  to  plot  against 
the  thrones  of  their  nephews.  But  listen,  Agatha, 
there  is  another  thing  which  has  decided  my  council. 
They  hold  that  at  the  opening  of  a  new  crusade  against 
the  Moslem  it  would  be  a  scandal  and  a  danger  to 
show  the  court  of  Byzantium  mingling  the  race  of  the 
Constantines  and  the  Basils  with  that  of  a  Saracen 
emir." 

"Mother  of  God,"  cried  Agatha,  in  her  agony,  "do 
you  hear  the  blasphemy  and  the  calumnies  they  utter?" 

"Agatha,  listen  to  me,  and  cease  these  idle  wailings 
and  revilings,"  said  Theophano,  with  cold  and  delib- 
erate words.  "On  the  third  day  from  this  you  marry 
the  Marshal  Sisinnios." 

"Never!"  burst  in  Agatha. 

"Then  our  will  is  that  you  be  made  a  nun  and  con- 
fined in  a  convent  on  the  coast  of  the  Black  Sea.  Again 
I  say — marry  Sisinnios — or  be  for  life  a  solitary  bride 
of  Christ." 

327 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Never!"  she  gasped.  "I  will  choose  death  rather 
than  such  a  marriage.  I  will  marry  none  but  Basil 
Digenes." 

"Basil  Digenes,"  said  Theophano,  with  her  cold, 
cruel  voice,  as  if  she  enjoyed  the  torture  she  was  caus- 
ing— "Basil  Digenes,  let  me  inform  you,  is  now  under 
arrest  as  a  traitor  to  his  sovereigns,  and  will  be  dealt 
with  as  I  and  my  council  direct.  You  know  what  hap- 
pens to  prisoners  who  are  suspected  of  aspiring  to  the 
throne.  You  will  never  see  the  Digenes  again  in  this 
world — and  be  very  certain  that  he  can  never  see  you," 
and  she  laughed  a  cruel,  mocking  laugh,  such  as  comes 
from  the  devils  when  they  seize  their  victim. 

"Mother  of  God,"  shrieked  Agatha,  "dost  thou  hear 
this?" 

"Marry  Sisinnios,"  said  Theophano,  hoarsely. 

"None  but  my  Basil!"  screamed  Agatha,  wild  with 
horror  and  wrath. 

The  empress  struck  the  door  twice  with  her  jewelled 
baton,  and  three  black  cubiculars  rushed  in,  seized 
Agatha,  now  speechless,  and  almost  fainting. 

"Take  her  away,  and  carry  out  my  orders,"  said 
Theophano. 

"Fiend,  I  defy  you!"  shrieked  Agatha,  as  the  huge 
eunuchs  carried  her  off,  and  closed  her  mouth  with 
their  unholy  hands. 

After  this  stormy  interview,  which  took  place  in  the 
privy  boudoir  of  the  empress,  Theophano  sent  for  her 
tiring  women,  and,  having  had  herself  divested  of  the 
stately  robes  she  had  worn,  she  was  bathed  with  rose- 
water,  and  had  her  long  tresses  combed  and  plaited. 
Then  she  was  dressed  in  the  diaphanous  folds  of  silk 
gauze,  which  displayed  to  the  best  her  magnificent 

328 


The  Stars  in  Their  Courses 

form,  and  left  free  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  her  neck 
and  arms.  It  was  little,  indeed,  that  art  could  do  to 
enhance  the  radiance  of  that  countenance  which  the 
symmetry  of  a  Greek  bust  and  the  glow  of  health 
and  life  had  made  a  model  of  perfect  beauty.  But 
all  that  the  cosmetic  art  of  Byzantine  luxury  could 
achieve  was  now  brought  into  play.  And,  as  she 
watched  the  effect  in  her  steel  mirror,  with  its  enam- 
elled frame,  Theophano  felt  conscious  that  she  had 
never  in  her  life  looked  so  like  a  goddess  of  the  old 
Olympus. 

"Bring  in  the  prisoner,"  she  said  to  her  cubiculars, 
"if  he  has  tasted  the  cup  I  sent  him  to  drink." 

Two  great  palace  guards  accordingly  led  in  a  man 
heavily  manacled  with  a  chain  attached  to  the  arm  of 
each  of  his  guards. 

"Loose  all  these  bonds,"  said  the  empress,  imperi- 
ously. 

"All,  madam?"  the  attendants  asked,  as  if  in  doubt 
of  her  meaning. 

"All,"  she  said,  again.  "Leave  him  quite  free." 
It  was  done.  The  attendants  and  guards  stood  alert 
and  on  the  watch,  for  a  state  prisoner  quite  unbound 
was  an  experience  unknown  in  the  Sacred  Palace. 

"All  will  leave  us,"  she  said,  peremptorily.  They 
looked  at  her  with  inquiry  and  in  surprise.  "Leave 
us  quite  alone.  Withdraw,  and  close  all  doors,"  she 
added. 

To  leave  the  empress  alone  with  a  young  and  very 
powerful  prisoner  was  something  strange  and  perilous, 
they  thought.  But  she  looked  at  them  steadily  till 
every  step  was  gone  and  all  doors  shut. 

Theophano  stood  alone  with  Basil  Digenes. 
329 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Gallant  lord  warden,"  she  began,  in  silvery  tones, 
"our  council  here,  in  the  absence  of  my  lord,  the 
Basileus,  have  insisted  on  having  you  arrested  on  a 
charge  of  aiming  at  the  throne  by  pressing  your  claim 
to  a  marriage  with  the  Princess  Agatha." 

"Madam,"  said  the  warden,  with  a  proud  smile, 
"my  beloved  lord  and  chief  knows  me  too  well  to 
listen  to  suspicions  so  empty  and  absurd." 

"You  will  never  think,  Basil,"  she  said,  in  her  most 
insinuating  tones,  "that  I  who  know  you,  I  trust,  quite 
as  well  as  does  my  lord,  can  personally  believe  such 
treason  to  be  possible  to  the  noblest  hero  in  the  armies 
of  Rome.  I  know  you  to  be  the  most  loyal  servant 
of  your  Basileus — ay,  and  of  your  Basilissa — "  And 
she  stepped  forward  and  offered  him  her  hand  to  kiss. 

The  guileless  warden  bent  on  his  knee,  took  those 
radiant  and  yet  deadly  fingers  in  his  own,  put  them  to 
his  lips,  with  the  words,  "From  all  my  heart,  I  thank 
thee,  gracious  queen." 

"You  may  trust  to  my  intercession  with  the  stern 
Basileus  to  save  you  from  the  charge  of  treason.  Rely 
on  my  friendship,  my  Lord  Basil,  for  you  little  know 
how  suspicious,  how  capricious,  how  resentful,  is  Ni- 
cephorus  Phocas.  But  I  will  save  you,  will  protect 
you  from  his  vengeance,  if  any  mortal  can." 

"My  chief,  my  friend,  my  sovereign,  will  need  little 
persuasion  the  very  moment  he  sees  me  before  him," 
said  the  warden,  with  a  sudden  air  of  disdain. 

"You  little  know  him,"  she  said,  bitterly.  "But 
the  danger  is  too  immediate  to  yourself.  The  council 
have  already  sealed  an  order  that  endangers  your  life 
— at  least,  your  eyes,"  she  said,  watching  him  as  a 
tigress  might  watch  a  kid. 

33° 


The  Stars  in  Their  Courses 

"What!"  cried  the  warden,  with  a  start — "my  life, 
my  limbs,  and  senses!  Are  they  mad?  Do  they  know 
who  I  am,  and  who  is  my  liege  master,  my  comrade  in 
a  hundred  fights?" 

"Basil,  I  am  your  friend,  and  only  I  of  those  who 
rule  here  to-day.  Your  liberty  and  life  are  in  the 
hands  of  those  who  rule  in  the  absence  of  the  Basileus 
himself.  I  can  save  you  from  their  envy  and  their 
malice,  but  on  one  condition  alone.  There  is  one 
thing  that  they  cannot  yield,  one  thing  wherein  I  could 
not  save  you." 

"What  is  that?"  he  said,  with  a  fierce  air  of  resolu- 
tion. 

"You  must  renounce  all  thought  of  the  princess. 
The  council  will  never  suffer  you,  with  your  name  and 
fame  and  birth  —  your  glory,  your  invincible  charm, 
Basil,  to  be  allied  with  the  sister  of  the  late  Basileus." 
Never  will  I  renounce  her — never !  I  will  face  death , 
imprisonment,  mutilation,  torture,  but  never  will  I  give 
up  my  Agatha  in  life." 

"Basil,  it  is  too  late.  She  has  renounced  you;  she 
consents  to  marry  the  Marshal  Sisinnios,  and  the  cere- 
mony takes  place  to-morrow." 

"  Impossible.  I  will  not  believe  it.  She  is  as  true  as 
steel,  as  good  as  a  saint,  as  brave  as  a  virgin  martyr. 
I  must  see  her,  must  hear  this  from  her  own  lips.  It 
is  false." 

"Would  that  I  could  think  so,  Basil,  for  her  sake 
and  for  yours.  Listen  to  reason ;  hear  the  truth  from 
one  who  admires  your  glory  and  yearns  to  serve  and 
to  save  you.  You  cannot  save  her,  and  you  may  de- 
stroy the  noblest  Roman  of  this  empire,  which  we  all 
know  you  to  be.     Agatha,  poor  child,  is  powerless  here, 

33i 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

and  can  do  nothing  to  save  you,  to  help  you,  or  to 
raise  you.  I  have  placed  one  soldier  on  the  Golden 
Throne.     He  has  proved  unworthy  of  it — " 

Here  Basil  burst  out  into  furious  words,  for  the 
Jew's  drug  had  begun  to  excite  and  confuse  his  brain. 
Theophano  drew  back  and  fingered  the  poisoned  sti- 
letto she  had  concealed  in  her  bosom. 

"Basil,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  of  deep  feeling,  "he 
may  die — he  may  become  the  hermit  he  desires  to  be 
— within  a  month.  Where  should  Rome  find  a  Basil- 
eus  then,  save  in  the  most  noble,  the  most  splendid 
soldier  of  this  realm?  Where  could  I  and  my  babes 
find  a  protector,  a  friend,  a  counsellor  —  if  it  be  not 
in  the  hero  whom  a  thousand  bards  have  praised  as 
the  'bravest  of  the  brave,'  whom  all  Byzantium  and 
the  Golden  Palace  admire  —  and  love  —  as  the  most 
brilliant  cavalier  in  this  royal  court?  Basil,  hear  me, 
Rome  and  Rome's  mistress,  all  that  is  greatest  and 
most  beautiful  on  earth  is  yours!  Say  but  one  word, 
and  seal  it  with  one  kiss!" 

He  listened  like  a  man  in  an  evil  dream,  who  cannot 
move  or  speak.  The  drug  had  begun  to  make  him 
delirious. 

She  advanced  towards  him,  opening  her  white  arms, 
that  glistened  with  jewels,  and  sought  to  wrap  him 
round  and  draw  him  towards  her. 

He  gasped  with  shame,  awe,  and  rage,  speechless 
with  indignation  and  amazement  and  stupefied  with 
the  potion.  He  staggered  backward,  shrinking  from 
her  with  loathing,  as  from  something  poisonous  and 
unclean.  He  stumbled  back  towards  the  door,  which 
was  violently  opened  behind  him.  And  as  Digenes 
staggered  back  he  fell  against  the  Basileus  himself, 

332 


The  Stars  in  Their  Courses 

who  rushed  into  the  arms  of  his  wife,  shouting,  "My 
queen,  my  wife,  my  love,  I  have  hurried  back  without 
notice  in  advance  of  my  guard  and  men." 

The  unfortunate  Digenes  sank  down  exhausted  and 
senseless.  He  was  now  in  high  fever,  delhious  from 
the  effects  of  the  potion  and  the  spasms  of  fury  and 
amazement  through  which  he  had  passed.  The  si- 
lentiaries  called  the  guard,  who  bore  away  the  uncon- 
scious chief  to  a  bed,  whereon  he  long  lay  overcome 
with  a  dangerous  illness,  and  unable  to  remember 
what  had  happened.  Nicephorus  gave  strict  orders 
to  his  own  physicians  and  attendants  to  nurse  him. 
He  listened  in  silence  full  of  doubt  and  bewilderment 
to  the  artful  story  poured  into  his  ears  from  the  ready 
brain  of  Theophano. 


XXIII 
The  March  on   Antioch 

THE  dawn  had  not  appeared  when  the  peace  of 
Byzantium  was  roused  by  a  sudden  commotion. 
The  reveille  was  sounding  from  all  the  barracks  of  the 
guards.  Citizens  rushed  from  their  houses  to  the 
wider  streets  and  forum  to  hear  the  news.  The  bea- 
con fire  across  the  Bosphorus,  on  the  heights  above 
Chrysopolis,  was  blazing  in  the  sky.  And  the  palace 
and  its  precincts  were  bright  with  lamps  and  torches, 
as  messengers,  troops,  and  attendants  hastened  through 
the  corridors  and  courts. 

The  young  guardsman,  Eric,  hurrying  to  headquar- 
ters, chanced  in  the  crowd  to  meet  his  friend,  Sym- 
machos  the  silentiary,  attended  by  Leo  the  historian 
that  was  to  be,  then  a  young  student  at  college.  "What 
does  it  mean?"  he  asked.  "What  does  it  mean?" — 
"Can  you  ask?"  said  Symmachos.  "Do  you  not  see 
the  blaze  of  the  beacon  across  the  Bosphorus  there? 
Do  you  not  know  that  this  is  the  signal  from  Caesarea 
in  Cappadocia  that  the  great  army  of  the  east  is  ready 
to  march,  and  awaits  the  coming  of  the  Basileus?" 

"I  knew  the  signal  was  expected,  but  I  did  not  un- 
derstand it  had  arrived." 

"Yes!"  said  Symmachos,  "it  has  come — just  an 
hour  ago,  having  started  from  the  banks  of  the  Halys 

334 


The   March   on  Antioch 

about  this  very  midnight.  I  have  just  been  sent  to 
summon  General  Bardas  to  the  palace." 

"You  have  never  seen  our  telegraphs  at  work  be- 
fore?" said  Leo,  the  scholar,  who  was  already  well 
versed  in  all  the  machinery  of  the  empire.  "Mount 
Argasus,  whence  this  signal  started,  is  full  thirty  days' 
march  from  the  city.  In  a  few  hours  the  beacon-fire 
has  leaped  across  that  space." 

"Yes,"  said  Symmachos,  "the  palace  pharos  com- 
municates with  that  of  Chrysopolis ;  thence  it  flashes  to 
Nicomedia,  Nicaea,  Dorylasum,  Laodicea,  till  it  reaches 
Mount  Taurus,  and  from  Taurus  the  concerted  signals 
are  returned." 

"  Does  it  not  remind  you  of  the  famous  scene  of  the 
beacon -fire  from  Troy,  in  the  'Agamemnon'  of  our 
yEschylus?"  said  Leo,  with  all  the  conceit  of  a  young 
student.  "You  know  those  glorious  lines,  my  lord?" 
he  asked. 

"Not  I,  my  boy,"  said  Colonel  Eric,  with  a  laugh, 
"Greek  prose  is  too  much  for  me  as  yet,  and  as  for 
your  ^Eschylus,  I  would  rather  wrestle  with  a  Russian 
bear  than  struggle  through  his  break-jaw  lines." 

"May  Apollo  and  the  Nine  Muses  forgive  you,  most 
terrible  son  of  Thor  and  Odin.  Oh,  listen  to  these 
majestic  verses  that  the  poet  puts  in  the  mouth  of 
Clytemnestra: 

'  From  Ida's  top,  Hephaestus,  Lord  of  Fire, 
Sent  forth  his  sign;  and  on,  and  ever  on, 
Beacon  to  beacon  sped  the  courier- flame. 
From  Ida  to  the  crag,  that  Hermes  loves, 
On  Lemnos;  thence,  unto  the  steep  sublime 
Of  Athos,  throne  of  Zeus,  the  broad  blaze  flared 
Thence,  raised  aloft  to  shoot  across  the  sea, 

335 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

The  moving  light,  rejoicing  in  its  strength, 
Sped  from  the  pyre  of  pine,  and  urged  its  way, 
In  golden  glory,  like  some  strange  new  sun, 
Onward,  and  reached  Macistus's  watching  heights.'  " 

As  the  young  student,  all  aflame  with  his  tragic  en- 
thusiasm, rolled  out  these  lines  to  the  bewilderment  of 
Eric,  the  courtier  Symmachos  watched  him  sharply. 

"Beware  how  you  talk  of  Clytemnestra  within  sight 
of  our  palace,  my  young  friend,  or  you  may  be  a  Cas- 
sandra yourself,"  said  he. 

"Ah,"  said  Leo,  "how  every  line  of  the  tragedy 
haunts  one;  of  a  truth,  there  never  was,  there  never 
will  be  again  on  this  earth,  such  a  tragedy  as  that! 
But  our  Agamemnon,  king  of  men,  is  going  forth  to 
Asia  to  a  triumph ;  he  is  not  returning  home  after  long 
absence.  And  yet  how  the  weird  cries  of  the  chorus 
ring  in  my  ears : 

"  '  Wherefore,  forever,  on  the  wings  of  Fear 

Hovers  a  vision  drear 
Before  my  boding  heart?  a  strain, 
Unbidden  and  unwelcome,  thrills  mine  ear 

Oracular  of  pain.'  " 

"Keep  your  visions  in  your  heart,  as  we  do,"  said 
the  silentiary,  sharply,  "and  do  not  let  them  pass 
your  lips,  or  they  will  prove  oracular  of  pain,  indeed, 
and  you  will  have  no  eyes  to  see  visions  at  all.  But 
come,  enough  of  this;  our  friend  the  colonel  here  is 
not  listening  to  you.  He  is  staring  at  the  crowd  be- 
fore the  Gate  of  Bronze." 

They  pushed  their  way  through  the  by-standers,  who 
stood  watching  an  unwonted  and  stirring  sight.  On 
either  side  of  the  bronze  door  of  the  palace  stood  two 

336 


The   March  on  Antioch 

huge  Varangian  battle-axemen  on  guard,  motionless 
as  statues.  Above  them,  high  on  the  face  of  the  closed 
doors,  hung  the  gilded  corselet  of  the  emperor's  armor 
of  state,  with  the  sword  and  the  shield.  The  crowd 
below  came  and  went,  gazing  on  it  with  murmurs. 

"And  what  means  that?"  Eric  asked  his  guides. 

"It  is  the  ceremonial  notice  to  his  people,"  said 
Symmachos,  "that  the  emperor  is  about  to  march 
and  take  command  of  his  army  in  person." 

"An  ancient  custom?"  asked  Eric. 

"  From  time  immemorial — at  least,  since  Theophilus 
the  Magnificent  marched  forth  against  the  children 
of  Hagar.  The  rite  is  all  exactly  prescribed  in  the 
appendix  to  the  first  Book  of  Ceremonies  of  our  ever- 
revered  Constantine  Porphyrogennetus,"  said  Sym- 
machos, with  an  air  of  authority,  as  if  that  had  set- 
tled the  matter. 

The  day  had  now  begun  to  break,  and  the  streets 
were  crowded  with  long  lines  of  guards  hastening  to 
the  points  of  embarkation.  The  forums  were  filled 
with  eager  sightseers,  with  caravans  of  beasts  of  bur- 
den, orderlies  flying  in  every  direction  with  orders,  and 
endless  processions  of  priests  and  acolytes  to  the  shrines 
and  miraculous  oratories  and  temples.  The  main 
army  was  already  gathered  round  Caesarea.  The  in- 
termediate camps  were  crowded  with  troops,  stores, 
ammunition,  beasts,  corn,  and  sheep,  for  food.  Noth- 
ing remained  to  be  moved  from  Byzantium  across  the 
water  except  the  strong  body-guard  of  the  emperor, 
and  the  vast  train  and  baggage  apparatus,  tents,  and 
servitors  ordained  in  the  Book  of  Ceremonies,  when  a 
Basileus  takes  the  field  in  person. 

To  carry  all  these  across  the  straits  to  the  Asian 
337 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

coast,  there  were  gathered  a  fleet  of  transports,  barges, 
and  galleys,  which  crowded  round  the  ports  adjoining 
the  palace,  and  again  covered  the  Golden  Horn  with 
their  many-colored  sails  and  long  banks  of  oars. 

In  the  mean  time  stormy  scenes  had  been  taking 
place  within  the  Sacred  Palace,  and,  indeed,  in  the 
privy  chambers  of  the  emperor  and  the  empress  them- 
selves. 

To  explain  the  situation,  it  is  necessary  to  go  back 
somewhat  in  time  to  the  moment  described  at  the  close 
of  the  twentieth  chapter,  when  Nicephorus  so  unex- 
pectedly burst  out  against  the  envoys  from  the  king 
of  Bulgaria,  and  his  sudden  attack  upon  that  kingdom. 

The  emperor  judged  it  unsafe  to  start  on  his  far 
eastern  campaign  while  leaving  the  Bulgarian  king- 
dom, with  all  its  resources  and  possible  allies,  planted 
within  a  few  days'  march  of  his  capital.  He  silently 
resolved  to  strike  down  the  power  of  so  dangerous  a 
neighbor  by  a  sudden  onslaught,  of  which  none  but 
two  or  three  of  his  intimate  council  had  any  warning. 
His  unexpected  rush  had  utterly  paralyzed  the  unwar- 
like  Czar  Peter,  who  had  lived  all  these  years  in  a 
fool's  contentment.  Forts,  towns,  and  stores  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  Romans,  who  seemed  to  be  making 
a  military  promenade  on  the  Bulgarian  capital.  But 
it  was  no  part  of  the  policy  of  Nicephorus  to  occupy 
himself  in  the  Balkans  a  single  day  after  the  comple- 
tion of  his  eastern  preparations.  Accordingly,  he 
sent  a  mission  to  the  young  Czar  of  the  Russ,  son  of 
the  great  Czarina  Olga,  and  induced  him,  by  promises 
and  enormous  bribes,  to  fall  upon  Bulgaria  from  the 
north  across  the  Danube.  Sviatoslav  forced  his  way 
on.     Crushed  thus  between  Romans  on  the  south,  and 

338 


The   March  on  Antioch 

Russians  on  the  north,  Bulgaria  lay  helpless  and  pros- 
trate. Thereupon,  Nicephorus  had  dashed  back  to 
Constantinople  in  advance  of  his  men,  as  suddenly  and 
as  unexpectedly  as  he  had  begun  the  attack.  He  was 
now  free  to  give  himself  entirely  to  the  great  campaign 
beyond  the  Taurus  the  moment  the  fire-signal  should 
warn  him  that  all  was  ready  to  march. 

Theophano  succeeded  in  throwing  on  the  privy  coun- 
cil the  responsibility  for  the  arrest  of  Digenes,  and  for 
the  opposition  to  his  marriage  with  Agatha.  The  un- 
fortunate warden,  tossing  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  and 
quite  delirious  with  fever,  was  unable  to  give  any 
explanations  whatever.  Agatha,  who  was  occupied 
intently  with  superintending  the  nursing  him  to  life, 
was  still  ignorant  of  the  monstrous  advances  that  the 
empress  had  made  to  Digenes.  And  the  persecuted 
princess,  in  her  agonies  of  anxiety  and  excitement, 
was  no  match  for  the  daring  brain  of  Theophano. 
Nicephorus  peremptorily  cancelled  the  imperial  order 
to  marry  Agatha  to  Sisinnios,  who  narrowly  escaped 
condign  punishment  for  allowing  himself  to  be  made 
a  party  to  the  scheme.  The  formal  authority  was 
given  to  the  suffering  warden  of  the  marches  to  marry 
the  princess  as  soon  as  he  could  be  restored  to  health. 
On  her  part,  the  noble-minded  Agatha,  overjoyed  at 
her  deliverance  from  the  palace  plot,  and  absorbed  in 
saving  her  beloved  Digenes  from  death,  forbore  to  tort- 
ure the  mind  of  the  emperor,  at  the  moment  of  set- 
ting forth  on  his  great  campaign,  with  all  that  she 
knew  and  more  that  she  suspected  of  the  designs  and 
intrigues  of  Theophano.  And  in  this  magnanimous 
resolve  she  was  confirmed  by  the  sudden  decision  of 
Nicephorus  as  to  the  regency,  which  struck  the  whole 

339 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

palace  and  its   inmates  with  surprise,  fear,  or  hope, 
according  to  the  party  each  supported. 

"My  beloved  lord  and  ever-victorious  hero,"  broke 
out  the  Basilissa,  when  at  last  they  two  were  alone 
and  the  immediate  orders  had  been  given,  "well 
wert  thou  named  Nicephorus,  thou  who  bringest  vic- 
tory ever  in  thy  hand!  Thou  returnest  from  a  new 
triumph  over  another  enemy,  who  treacherously  pro- 
fessed to  be  our  friend.  But  to  me,  thy  wife,  thy  ser- 
vant, thy  lover,  thou  bringest  back  that  which  is  to 
her  more  dear  than  victory.  Thou  hast  brought  life 
and  light  and  joy — thou  bringest  back  thyself!" 

Nicephorus  listened  in  silence  with  a  clouded  brow. 
At  last  he  spoke. 

"I  do  not  know  if  my  coming  brings  joy  to  this 
palace.  I  purpose  that  it  shall  bring  peace.  I  will  do 
my  best  that  it  bring  life  at  least  to  one  who  is  more 
dear  to  me  than  any  soldier  in  my  empire.  But,  you 
will  remember,  that  I  do  not  come  to  stay.  I  hurried 
back  from  the  Balkan  on  news  that  all  was  on  the  eve 
of  readiness  on  the  Taurus.  Hour  by  hour  I  expect 
the  beacon-fire  to  flame.  And  twelve  hours  after  that 
light  I  shall  be  in  Asia." 

"Oh,  my  Lord,  my  life,  say  not  so  soon!  Am  I  to 
be  widowed  again  in  so  short  an  interval?  Have  you 
thought  of  all  the  anxieties  I  have  suffered  while  filling 
your  seat  at  the  council?  Do  you  care  nothing  for 
all  the  toils  that  a  regent  has  to  bear — and  that  re- 
gent a  weak,  inexperienced  woman?  Cannot  you  im- 
agine, dear  my  lord  and  master,  all  the  loneliness  that 
a  widowed  wife  has  to  suffer  in  her  silent  chamber,  in 
her  deserted  couch?" 

"You  will  have  no  longer  all  these  toils." 
34o 


The   March  on  Antioch 

"What  say  you?"  she  almost  shrieked.  "Who  can 
sustain  the  regency  in  your  absence,  who  but  your 
wife  who  lifted  you  to  this  throne  and  who  alone 
knows  all  its  cares,  its  resources,  and  its  perils?" 

"One  who  knew  all  this  before  you  yourself  were  born 
— one  who,  for  two  generations,  has  been  a  chief  bul- 
wark of  Rome — one  who  is  honored  and  beloved  by 
every  honest  Roman,"  said  Nicephorus,  quietly,  and 
with  a  tone  of  decision. 

"Your  father,  Bardas?"  she  gasped;  "but  he  is  de- 
crepit with  age  and  infirmity." 

"  He  is  wise,  brave,  firm,  and  the  idol  of  the  people. 
But  I  have  named  as  his  colleague  in  the  office  of 
regency,  my  brother  Leo,  the  curopalates.  He  has 
the  youth,  life,  and  force  that  years  may  have  taken 
from  my  sire.  They  two,  as  joint  regents,  will  form 
a  government  that  all  men  can  trust — such  as  I  can 
trust  when  I  leave  for  the  far  east." 

"And  cannot  you  trust  your  own  wife?"  she  broke 
out. 

Nicephorus  uttered  not  a  word,  nor  did  he  make  a 
sign. 

"It  cannot  be.  Has  it  come  to  this?  Have  I  not 
saved  your  life  from  Bringas?  Have  I  not  set  you  on 
this  throne?  Have  I  not  imperilled  my  all,  my  own 
life  and  liberty,  my  very  soul,  for  an  Armenian  soldier 
of  fortune  —  I,  the  daughter  of  ancient  kings  and 
heroes,  the  wife,  the  mother  of  emperors  of  Rome?" 
She  spoke  with  passion,  seeking,  if  she  might,  to  over- 
whelm him  with  her  majestic  presence. 

Nicephorus  spoke  not  a  word;  slowly  he  drew  from 
his  robe  the  diploma  with  its  vermilion  seal  that  created 
Bardas   the    Caesar,   and    Leo    the    curopalates,   joint 

34i 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century- 
regents  of  the  empire,  during  his  own  absence  from 
Europe. 

She  strove  to  snatch  it  from  his  hand,  with  fresh 
reproaches  and  remonstrances.  "Let  me  tear  it;  lis- 
ten to  reason ;  will  you  show  such  cruelty  to  your  wife  ? 
Nicephorus,  remember  all  that  you  owe  me!" 

At  length,  having  exhausted  appeals,  invectives, 
and  threats,  she  returned  to  blandishments  again,  with 
a  mind  recurring  to  the  large  opportunities  for  ambi- 
tion and  intrigue  which  the  palace  would  offer  her  in 
the  absence  of  its  imperial  master. 

"Cruel  man,  hard-hearted  husband,  faithless  lover," 
she  broke  out  with  sobs,  "you  little  know  or  care  for 
all  the  wretchedness  of  a  wife,  deserted  for  years,  it 
may  be,  abandoned  to  the  evil  arts  of  her  rivals,  her 
enemies — ay,  maybe  of  her  suitors  and  false  friends." 
And  she  wept,  with  all  the  art  and  pathos  of  a  con- 
summate actress. 

"Fear  not,"  said  Nicephorus,  quietly;  "you  go  with 
headquarters  into  Asia  yourself.  All  fitting  prepara- 
tions for  your  journey  are  already  being  made." 

"What?"  she  screamed.  "Am  I  to  be  dragged 
across  Asia  in  the  rear  of  an  army,  in  this  terrible  cam- 
paign into  Syria?  Am  I  to  be  a  follower  of  the  camp, 
a  hostage,  a  prisoner,  an  exile?" 

"You  go  with  all  the  honors,  the  state,  and  fit  ap- 
pliances of  an  empress  of  Rome.  Does  a  Basilissa 
dread  to  face  a  campaign  against  the  enemies  of  Christ, 
when  the  Basileus  in  person  leads  his  armies  to  war?" 

"  Do  you  take  me  with  you,  do  you  mean?" 

"The  Basilissa  will  be  at  headquarters,  I  say,  though 
the  commander-in-chief  may  not  know  from  hour  to 
hour  whither  he  may  be  called  in  the  field." 

342 


The   March  on  Antioch 

"And  are  my  poor  children,  the  infant  Basileis,  to 
be  torn  from  their  mother,  to  be  left  here  exposed  to 
all  the  machinations  of  their  rivals — to  the  humilia- 
tions and  the  plots  that  your  brother  may  contrive, 
to  all  the  contaminations  of  this  place — when  the  love 
and  care  of  their  mother  is  far  away?"  And  she 
sobbed  and  wept  tears  of  mingled  wrath  and  fear,  tears 
not  wholly  feigned.  "They  will  imprison  them,  they 
will  mutilate  them,  they  will  murder  them — my  babes, 
my  hope,  my  pride,  my  sons  of  Constantines,  Basils, 
of  Leonidas,  and  of  Lycurgus!  The  Armenian  con- 
spirators will  slay  them  and  seize  their  inheritance." 

"Fear  nothing,  madam,"  at  last  said  Nicephorus, 
coldly.  "The  Basileis  go  with  you,  with  ample  im- 
perial state  and  retinues.  Your  terrors  are  as  need- 
less as  they  are  unjust.  Your  sons  shall  have  all  a 
mother's  care,  all  a  mother's  love  you  can  give  them. 
Nor  will  you  suffer  any  loss  of  dignity  if  you  cease  to 
be  regent.  You  are  empress  in  title  and  in  act,  and 
will  be  honored  as  reigning  empress,  whether  in  Eu- 
rope or  in  Asia;  you  and  your  sons  will  be  in  the  eyes 
of  all  men  the  true  sovereigns  of  this  empire.  It  is 
time  that  these  boys,  who  are  to  inherit  this  throne, 
should  see  with  their  eyes  the  kingdom  they  will  have 
to  rule,  and  to  hear  the  shouts  of  a  Roman  army  as  it 
marches  to  battle  against  the  infidel.  For  me,  while 
this  war  endures,  so  long  as  the  caliph  holds  the  Holy 
Land  where  Christ  the  Saviour  lived,  taught,  and 
died  for  men,  it  is  enough  for  me  to  be  commander  of 
the  armies  of  Rome,  of  the  soldiers  of  our  crucified 
Redeemer." 

Long  did  the  wily  sorceress  try  all  her  arts  in  turn — 
entreaties,  invectives,  tears,  threats,  blandishments, 
23  343 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

and  pathetic  reproaches.  Nicephorus  remained  im- 
movable. Bewildered  as  he  was  by  the  incoherent  and 
contradictory  tales  he  heard  as  to  what  had  passed  in 
his  absence,  grieved  at  the  long  illness  of  his  friend, 
overwhelmed  with  cares  of  state  and  the  duties  of  the 
campaign,  he  resolved  to  postpone  further  inquiry  into 
the  conduct  and  schemes  of  his  wife.  He  insisted  on 
carrying  her  with  him,  to  be  near  him,  and  under  his 
watch  and  guard,  but  no  longer  to  be  at  his  side  or  to 
be  treated  with  any  show  of  affection.  Henceforth  she 
ceased  to  be  his  wife,  though  to  the  world  she  remained 
his  empress.  To  passionate  love  and  devotion  there 
had  succeeded  deep  distrust  and  even  dread.  But  even 
distrust  and  dread  were  not  strong  enough  to  stifle 
love.  He  was  no  longer  her  slave.  He  could  not 
cease  to  be  her  lover.  He  could  not  cease  to  be  her 
lover  in  the  silent  recesses  of  his  heart,  hard  as  he 
might  strive  to  tear  up  by  the  roots  the  memory  of 
his  fatal  passion. 

Soon  after  noon  that  very  day  vast  crowds  collected 
in  the  Middle  Street,  in  the  forum  of  Constantine,  and 
in  the  Augustaion,  and  all  round  the  walls  of  the  Sa- 
cred Palace.  The  whole  city  was  wild  with  excitement, 
and  the  streets  were  decorated  with  banners  and  em- 
blems. Hour  after  hour  since  dawn  the  guards  had 
been  paraded  and  mustered  on  barges.  Long  cara- 
vans of  sumpter-mules,  laden  with  the  tents,  furniture, 
baggage,  and  robes  of  the  empress,  of  her  two  sons, 
and  of  Nicephorus,  passed  through  the  imperial  gate 
down  to  the  port,  where  they  embarked  for  the  Asiatic 
shore.  But  the  densest  crowd  of  all  was  gathered 
round  the  harbor  of  Boueoleon,  where  the  imperial 
cortege  was  to  take  ship.     At  length,  amid  the  clang  of 

344 


The  March  on  Antioch 

trumpets  and  cymbals,  the  procession  was  formed. 
Magistroi,  patricians,  and  prefects,  selected  by  the  em- 
peror to  form  his  court,  among  whom  were  our  friends 
Bardas  Skleros,  attended  by  young  Eric,  Bourtzes,  and 
Balantes,  and  other  generals,  chamberlains,  and  ushers, 
accompanied  Nicephorus  to  the  imperial  galley.  It 
was  gently  rowed  out  from  the  port  to  a  short  dis- 
tance, where  all  could  be  easily  seen,  and  spoken  word 
could  be  heard  on  shore.  The  walls,  banks,  towers, 
terraces,  and  every  available  spot  were  crowded,  while 
the  patriarch,  his  priests  and  acolytes,  with  their 
crosses  and  pictures,  waited  at  the  point  of  the  quay. 
The  emperor  ascended  the  steps  to  the  raised  plat- 
form on  the  quarter-deck  of  the  state  dromon.  He 
was  in  full  panoply,  over  which  fell,  in  long  folds,  the 
imperial  scaramangion  of  his  office.  He  turned  tow- 
ards the  east,  and,  reverently  raising  his  right  hand 
aloft,  he  thrice  waved  over  the  city  the  sign  of  the 
Cross.  Profound  hush  fell  on  the  vast  multitude. 
Then  he  clasped  his  hands  in  the  attitude  of  adoration, 
and,  in  a  ringing  voice  across  the  waters,  poured  forth 
the  prayer  prescribed  in  the  book  of  rites: 

"O  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  my  God,  into  thy  hands  I  commend 
this  city  of  Thine.  Guard  her  against  all  enemies,  all  disasters, 
that  may  seek  to  come  against  her;  guard  her  against  civil  war, 
and  against  invaders  from  the  Gentiles.  Keep  her  safe  from 
capture  and  safe  from  pillage:  for  in  Thee  we  place  all  our  hopes, 
inasmuch  as  Thou  art  the  Lord  of  all  mercy,  the  Father  of  all 
pity,  the  God  from  whom  alone  cometh  all  consolation.  Thine 
is  all  mercy,  all  salvation,  deliverance  out  of  all  temptations 
and  all  perils,  now  and  forever  and  evermore.     Amen." 

At  these  words  the  choir  responded  from  the  shore 
with  long  chants  of  "Amen !  Amen !    Holy,  Holy,  Holy, 

345 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

One  Triune  God!"  And  the  vast  crowds  on  the  walls 
and  terraces  sent  up  to  the  sky  resounding  shouts  of 
"Amen!  Amen!  Long  live  our  ever- victorious  Ba- 
sileus!" 

The  imperial  fleet  set  forth  at  once  with  sails  and 
oars  across  the  Propontis,  and,  amid  crowds  of  boats, 
caiques,  and  light  galleys,  passed  over  that  lovely  in- 
land lake  between  the  Princes  Islands  and  the  Asian 
coast,  marked  with  endless  headlands,  bays,  woods, 
and  towers.  It  sailed  on  eastward  into  the  landlocked 
bay  of  Nicomedia,  and  disembarked  at  Pylae  (the 
Gates  of  Asia),  a  little  north  of  the  famous  city  of 
Nicaea  in  Bithynia.  This  was  now  practically  the 
head  of  the  great  military  road  which  led  from  the 
Propontis  into  Syria,  the  road  which  so  many  armies, 
proconsuls,  and  officials  of  the  Roman  empire  had 
traversed  for  ages — along  which  the  advancing  flood 
of  Islam  came,  step  by  step,  for  seven  hundred  years 
— the  road  traversed  by  the  vast  and  motley  host  of 
the  First  Frank  Crusade,  one  hundred  and  thirty  years 
later,  on  their  way  to  Antioch  and  Jerusalem. 

Here  the  imperial  host  was  attended  and  watched 
by  two  young  and  observant  spirits,  both  of  whom 
were  deeply  stirred  by  the  character  and  exploits  of 
Nicephorus  Phocas,  both  of  whom  have  left  us  records 
of  his  achievements.  One  of  these  was  the  young 
student,  Leo,  long  afterwards  destined  to  become  a 
deacon  of  the  Church,  and  to  transmit  to  us,  after  a 
thousand  years,  the  only  contemporary  history  in  prose 
of  these  events.  Though  still  but  an  undergraduate 
at  college,  his  historical  zeal  had  caused  him  to  obtain 
permission  to  follow  the  imperial  train,  at  least  as 
far  as  Cassarea ;  and  he  was  already  taking  ample  notes 

346 


The   March   on   Antioch 

of  everything  he  saw,  and  was  diligently  inquiring  into 
every  detail  of  the  armament  and  its  equipment.  His 
companion  was  one  Joannes,  called  Kyriotes,  and 
usually  known  as  "the  Geometer,"  from  his  mathe- 
matical learning.  He,  too,  ultimately  took  priests'  or- 
ders, and  became,  late  in  life,  Bishop  of  Melitene,  in 
Cappadocia.  We  still  have  verses  of  his  in  the  form 
of  epitaphs  on  Nicephorus,  his  uncle  Malemos  the  Her- 
mit, and  the  Patriarch  Polyeuctus.  At  the  date  of 
this  journey  he  was  a  young  courtier — a  protospath- 
aire,  in  fact,  unattached  —  and  his  father,  Theodore, 
a  great  official,  had  procured  for  his  son,  John,  and  his 
young  friend,  Leo,  permission  to  join  the  imperial  suite 
and  to  follow  all  the  movements  of  the  host.  It  is  by 
the  keen  eyes  and  active  brains  of  these  two  literary 
enthusiasts  that  we  propose  now  to  follow  the  crusade 
of  the  tenth  century. 

As  soon  as  the.  immense  convoy  of  baggage  and  camp 
furniture  was  fully  landed  on  the  main-land,  the  em- 
peror in  person  held  a  review  of  the  train  of  sumpter 
beasts,  their  drivers,  and  their  packs,  under  the  su- 
perintendence of  the  prefect  of  the  stables.  Leo 
and  Joannes  followed  in  the  emperor's  staff,  John 
as  the  elder,  and  already  an  experienced  official, 
pointing  out  and  explaining  each  section  of  the  equip- 
ment. 

"The  first  inspection  is  to  register  the  proper  num- 
ber of  the  sumpter  beasts  sent  in  to  the  rendezvous," 
said  John.  "The  prefect  of  the  stables  and  his  lieu- 
tenants and  subalterns  are  responsible.  Every  offi- 
cial, from  the  captain  of  a  theme  to  the  lowest  grade 
of  the  vestiaries,  is  charged  to  produce  so  many  horses, 
so  many  mules.     The  counts  of  the  guard,  scholares, 

347 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

excubitors',    immortals,    and   the   obsequians,    are    all 
assessed,  and  so  on  throughout." 

"Is  the  number  of  each  requisition  fixed  by  law,  and 
always  the  same?" 

"Certainly,  it  is  all  noted  in  the  appendix  to  our 
first  Book  of  Ceremonies." 

"There  are  no  imperial  sumpter  animals  then?" 
asked  Leo. 

"Certainly  there  are.  The  emperor  is  now  inspect- 
ing the  contingent.  Two  hundred  horses  and  two 
hundred  mules  from  the  imperial  stables  of  Asia  and 
Phrygia.  The  great  stables  and  paddocks  are  over 
there  at  Malagina,  under  Mount  Olympus.  The  bish- 
ops and  archbishops  have  to  send  another  hundred, 
and  the  great  monasteries  another  hundred.  Alto- 
gether we  have  here  nearly  one  thousand  beasts." 

"That  is  not  enough  for  the  army?"  asked  Leo. 

"Oh  no!  the  army  is  already  well  on  its  march,  or 
in  the  intermediate  camps  along  the  line,  ready  to  fall 
in.  Their  baggage  animals  are  by  this  time  well  ahead 
towards  Caesarea.  These  we  see  are  for  the  imperial 
retinue,  staff,  and  service.  The  whole  have  been  mus- 
tered at  the  state  paddocks,  where  they  have  been 
gelded,  branded  with  the  state  cipher,  and  passed  by 
the  surgeons.  They  must  be  above  five  and  under 
seven  years,  shod,  bitted,  and  furnished  with  saddles 
or  packs,  halters,  and  tethers.  Those  that  are  sick  or 
sorry  have  been  rejected,  and  are  left  in  the  paddocks 
in  the  veterinary  hospital." 

"What  is  the  emperor  stopping  for  now  in  that 
group?"  asked  Leo. 

"He  notices,  perhaps,  that  the  beast  is  short  of 
proper  clothing,  or  has  a  sore  back,  and  that  his  har- 

348 


The  March  on  Antioch 

ness  has  not  been  properly  stamped.  No!  I  see  now, 
he  has  noticed  a  mule  with  a  load  too  heavy.  See, 
he  has  it  taken  off  and  weighed!" 

"Why  so?"  asked  the  curious  Leo. 

"No  horse  or  mule  can  have  laid  on  his  back  a  weight 
exceeding  eighty  measures  of  corn.  Yes!  They  find 
it  is  exceeded.  The  Basileus  has  called  for  the  driver's 
check,  which  is  forfeited,  and  he  is  ordering  the  fellow 
two  dozen  lashes." 

"He  is  rather  more  tender  to  his  mules  than  to  his 
men,"  said  Leo. 

"Not  he,"  said  John.  "Nicephorus  is  a  man  of 
iron  to  himself  first  and  to  others  next.  To  himself, 
his  soldiers,  his  beasts,  he  is  the  same.  In  discipline 
he  is  as  sharp  and  as  severe  in  punishing  as  any  emir 
of  the  Hagarenes  or  czar  of  the  Bulgars." 

"Inexorable  as  Rhadamanthus  or  Achilles,"  said 
Leo,  whose  mind  ran  on  his  Hellenic  classics. 

"Well,  do  you  not  see,"  said  John,  "it  is  not  a  mat- 
ter of  tenderness  at  all.  Tender  is  a  word  not  known 
in  the  vocabulary  of  the  Sacred  Palace  nor  of  the  Ro- 
man army.  But  a  mule  with  a  sore  back,  a  cracked 
heel,  or  with  an  excessive  load,  will  soon  drop.  With 
it  goes  its  pack,  and  when  this  failure  spreads,  the  ex- 
pedition is  delayed  or  weakened.  Hence  our  adminis- 
tration for  centuries  had  prescribed  the  exact  harness, 
clothes,  condition,  age,  of  every  baggage -beast,  and 
the  weight  he  has  to  carry,  and  provides  good  stables, 
clothes,  drugs,  and  veterinary  surgeons.  And  Niceph- 
orus Phocas,  let  me  tell  you,  is  the  man  in  all  this  ser- 
vice the  most  keen  to  mark  any  case  of  default,  and 
the  most  inexorable  to  have  it  exposed  and  punished. 
I  have  heard  him  say  that  the  feet  of  a  soldier  are  just 

349 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

as  essential  as  his  hands,  and  the  legs  of  his  mount  may 
decide  a  battle  quite  as  much  as  his  lance  or  bow." 

The  huge  caravan  passed  on  with  sure  and  rapid 
steps  from  one  camp  to  another,  the  troops  in  each 
camp  joining  up  on  the  march,  through  the  plain  round 
Nicaea,  to  the  station  at  Dorylasum,  a  district  the  scene 
of  so  many  desperate  combats — and  after  a  hundred 
and  thirty  years  the  scene  of  the  triumphs  of  a  God- 
frey and  a  Tancred.  The  empress  and  her  sons  were 
conveyed  with  speed  and  without  fatigue  in  horse  lit- 
ters, and  they  had  their  tents,  guards,  and  retinue  dis- 
tinct from  that  of  the  emperor. 

It  was  at  Dorylasum,  after  a  severe  day's  march, 
that  Leo  and  Joannes  were  permitted  to  visit  the  tents 
of  the  emperor  himself.  Two  were  pitched  and  ready 
furnished  at  each  station,  awaiting  his  arrival — one  for 
his  meals,  the  other  for  the  night.  They  were  of  purple, 
lined  with  silk,  and  supported  on  stout  tent -poles  with 
gilded  knobs.  Within  they  were  already  filled  with 
couches,  folding-tables,  cushions,  rugs,  and  furs,  with  all 
the  utensils  needed  for  the  table  and  service — stamped 
with  the  imperial  cipher — baths,  books,  maps,  alma- 
nacs, prayer-books,  reliquaries,  even  cases  of  medi- 
cines, and  surgical  instruments.  Nor  was  there  want- 
ing immense  chests  of  robes,  of  state  armor,  silk  and 
linen  garments,  even  unguents  and  pastils,  lamps, 
parchment,  writing-materials,  seals,  and  stamps.  All 
this  vast  apparatus  was  strictly  required  by  the  laws 
and  custom  of  the  Sacred  Palace.  Nicephorus,  who 
despised  it,  and  rejected  its  use,  suffered  it  to  be  taken 
as  far  as  Caesarea.  When  the  campaign  began  in  ear- 
nest, he  left  it  behind  him,  and  fared  as  simply  as  any 
regimental  officer  in  his  army. 

35° 


The   March  on   Antioch 

Just  as  they  had  been  admitted  to  view  the  imperial 
tents  and  fittings,  the  guard  for  the  night  was  being 
posted.  The  commander  of  the  vigils,  or  watch, 
ordered  out  a  detachment  of  one  hundred  guards,  who 
patrolled  the  external  circuit  of  the  imperial  tents. 
The  inner  circuit,  from  the  cords  of  the  tent-poles,  was 
guarded  by  a  hundred  men  from  the  corps  of  the 
hetaeri,  or  body-guard.  From  the  moment  when  the 
emperor  had  withdrawn  within,  no  man  could  pass 
the  barrier,  which  was  indicated  by  the  shields  hung 
outside  the  tents. 

"  From  the  day  that  the  Basileus  enters  the  enemies' 
ground,"  said  Joannes,  "these  guards  are  doubled,  and 
a  more  rigid  surveillance  is  enforced.  An  emperor 
of  Rome  is  not  to  be  caught  napping  in  his  tent  like 
a  madcap  king  of  the  Franks,  or  a  rough-and-ready 
czar  of  the  Russ." 

And  now  the  Basileus  approached,  passing  through 
the  lines  of  men  already  halted  round  their  quarters. 
The  brigadiers,  colonels,  and  officers  dismounted  and 
joined  his  staff.  The  infantry  fell  on  their  knees  and 
prostrated  themselves  before  their  august  autocrator; 
the  cavalry  sat  motionless  on  their  chargers  at  the 
salute.  Nicephorus  would  halt  and  address  each  de- 
tachment. "Soldiers,  I  trust  all  goes  well  with  you! 
How  fare  ye,  my  sons?  How  fares  it  with  your  wives, 
my  daughters-in-law,  how  fares  it  with  your  children?" 

And  the  men  answered  in  the  appointed  words,  "  In 
the  light  of  thy  majesty,  if  all  goes  well  with  thee,  all 
goes  well  with  us,  thy  servants."  And  the  Basileus 
replied,  "Thanks  be  to  God  Almighty,  who  preserves 
you  in  health!" 

With  these  words  he  passed  into  his  tent.     The  cap- 
351 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

tain  of  th'e  watch  asked  him  for  the  password.     That 
night  it  was  "St.  Michael  the  Archangel." 

At  night  he  summoned  his  principal  officers  and 
staff  to  sup  with  him.  The  young  Joannes  and  Leo 
were  even  admitted  to  attend  at  the  repast.  Niceph- 
orus  was  now  hastening  to  take  command  of  a  great 
army,  which  he  knew  was  worthy  of  its  task — to  make 
head  against  the  swarms  of  Islam  which  now  reached 
from  the  Indus  and  the  Caspian  to  the  Taurus,  and 
from  Morocco  to  the  Holy  Land.  He  had  thrown  off 
all  the  cares  and  vexations  of  the  capital,  all  the  mis- 
erable ceremony  of  the  Sacred  Palace.  He  was  again 
a  soldier,  about  to  complete  the  mission  of  his  life; 
and  the  young  students  rejoiced  to  observe  in  all  his 
words  and  his  looks  a  spirit  of  hope  and  confidence 
that  for  two  years  had  never  lighted  up  the  counte- 
nance of  the  hermit  sovereign. 

As  the  two  students  left  the  tents  of  the  Basileus, 
they  passed  over  to  those  of  the  Basilissa,  who  had  just 
arrived  in  her  litter  from  the  day's  march  with  a  long- 
train  of  guards,  pack-horses,  attendants,  and  baggage 
servants,  and  her  two  sons,  with  a  like  retinue.  As 
she  was  in  the  act  of  descending  from  her  litter  to 
pass  into  her  tent,  a  strange,  wild  figure  pressed  forward 
against  the  guards  with  loud  outcries  and  appeals  to 
the  empress  to  suffer  him  to  approach  and  address 
her.  It  was  an  old  man,  gaunt  and  haggard,  with 
long  white  hair,  the  upper  part  of  his  body  was  almost 
bare,  and  showed  emaciated  and  torn  limbs,  while  he 
was  girt  with  a  coarse  and  ragged  garment  from  the 
waist  downward;  but  his  legs  and  feet,  like  his  arms, 
were  naked,  and  presented  the  look  of  a  skeleton  ex- 
posed to  the  winds  of  heaven.     His  cries  and  wild  ap- 

352 


The   March  on   Antioch 

pearance,  much  like  that  of  an  India  fakir,  caused 
Theophano  to  halt  and  ask  who  he  was  and  what  did 
he  seek.  He  was  said  to  be  the  famous  eremite,  Daniel, 
of  Mount  Olympus,  who  had  lived  in  solitary  caves  or 
huts  for  forty-three  years,  had  once  had  a  great  repu- 
tation for  sanctity,  but  was  now  believed  to  have  been 
driven  crazy  by  his  austerities.  He  had  lived  in  a 
desecrated  tomb  by  the  side  of  the  road,  and  was  af- 
flicted with  dreadful  fits  of  epilepsy.  He  claimed  to 
possess  the  gift  of  prophecy,  which  was  vouchsafed  to 
him  by  the  Jewish  prophet  whose  name  he  bore. 

The  promise  of  hearing  prophecy  caused  Theophano 
to  order  that  the  venerable  hermit  should  be  permitted 
to  approach  her.  He  advanced  towards  the  royal  seat, 
and,  standing  on  a  rock  and  throwing  up  to  heaven  his 
shrunken  arms,  he  began  with  loud  cries,  "Hear  the 
word  of  the  Lord  God,  which  He  spake  by  the  mouth 
of  Daniel,  prophet  of  the  Most  High.  I  have  seen  in 
a  vision  the  things  that  shall  come  upon  this  land,  for 
its  abominations  and  all  its  sorceries.  Thus  saith  the 
Lord :  '  There  shall  come  up  against  this  land  a  king  of 
kings  from  the  rising  sun,  with  horses  and  with  horse- 
men, and  he  shall  set  engines  of  war  against  thy  walls, 
and  with  his  axes  he  shall  break  down  thy  towers. 
The  walls  shall  shake  at  the  noise  of  his  horsemen 
when  he  shall  enter  into  thy  gates.  With  the  hoofs 
of  his  horses  shall  he  tread  down  all  thy  streets.  He 
shall  slay  thy  people  with  the  sword.  They  shall 
make  a  spoil  of  thy  riches,  and  make  a  prey  of  thy 
merchandise.  They  shall  break  down  thy  walls  and 
destroy  thy  pleasant  houses.  I  will  make  thee  a  ter- 
ror, and  thou  shalt  be  no  more." 

The  prophet  foamed  at  the  mouth,  and  paused  from 
353 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

sheer  exhaustion.  The  attendants  attempted  to  seize 
him.  But  the  empress  motioned  them  to  suffer  him 
to  speak.     Again  he  screamed  out : 

"Thus  saith  the  Lord.  I  have  seen  in  a  vision  a 
great  host  of  men  and  horses  coming  from  the  setting 
sun,  and  I  hear  the  crash  of  battle  and  of  fierce  slaugh- 
ter; and  all  the  ground  whereon  thou  now  standest 
shall  be  a  lake  of  blood.  And  the  bones  of  the  slain 
shall  cumber  this  valley,  and  its  end  shall  be  a  land  of 
desolation." 

Again  he  shouted,  as  his  long  arm  pointed  at  Theo- 
phano: 

"Thus  saith  the  Lord.  Thou  art  covered  with  silk 
and  bedecked  with  ornaments.  Bracelets  are  on  thy 
hands  and  chains  on  thy  neck,  jewels  are  on  thy  fore- 
head and  ear-rings  in  thy  ears  and  a  beautiful  crown 
upon  thy  head.  Thou  wast  exceedingly  beautiful,  and 
thou  didst  prosper  into  thy  kingdom.  But  thou  didst 
trust  in  thy  own  beauty,  and  playedst  the  harlot  be- 
cause of  thy  renown,  and  pourest  out  thy  fornications 
on  every  one  that  passed  by." 

The  courtiers  groaned  out  their  indignation,  but 
Theophano  sat  motionless  like  a  statue  of  Clytem- 
nestra. 

"Wherefore,  O  harlot,  hear  the  word  of  the  Lord. 
Because  thy  filthiness  was  poured  out,  and  with  all 
the  idols  of  thy  abominations — I  will  judge  thee  as 
women  that  break  wedlock  and  shed  blood  are  judged; 
and  I  will  give  thee  blood  in  fury  and  jealousy.  And 
they  shall  strip  thee  of  thy  clothes,  and  shall  take  thy 
fair  jewels,  and  leave  thee  naked  and  bare.  And  they 
shall  stone  thee  with  stones,  and  thrust  thee  through 
with  their  swords. 

354 


The   March  on  Antioch 

"Thus  saith  the  Lord.  Hast  thou  killed  and  also 
taken  possession?  In  the  place  where  dogs  shall  lick 
the  blood  of  him  thou  shalt  slay,  shall  dogs  lick  thy 
blood,  even  thine." 

These  dreadful  fragments  of  biblical  imprecation 
were  shrieked  forth  by  the  fanatic  in  piercing  tones, 
while  his  weird,  inhuman  look  and  voice  thrilled  those 
who  heard  them,  so  that  they  were  afraid  to  move. 
Theophano  listened  in  seeming  patience,  with  a  look 
of  disdainful  mockery  in  her  face — somewhat  distracted 
within  by  her  own  contempt  for  the  wretched  maniac, 
and  lingering  desire  to  hear  what  she  might  of  inspired 
or  diabolic  presage.  But  as  the  violence  of  passion 
had  disordered  the  brain  and  nerves  of  the  ascetic,  he 
foamed  at  the  mouth  in  a  fit,  and,  with  violent  shrieks 
and  struggles,  he  was  borne  away  by  the  terrified  at- 
tendants. To  the  eye  of  those  around,  and  even  to 
the  searching  glances  of  Leo  and  Joannes,  Theophano 
herself  was  the  one  person  present  at  this  scene  who 
had  borne  it  throughout  with  indifference  and  con- 
tempt. 


XXIV 
Love  and   Falsehood 

BY  rapid,  preconcerted  stages,  the  imperial  head- 
quarters was  moved  on  from  Dorylaeum  and  the 
valley  of  the  Sangarius  into  that  of  the  upper  Halys, 
and  soon  round  the  salt  lake  of  Tatta  to  Caesarea, 
where  a  halt  was  made.  It  was  practically  the  mili- 
tary route  long  before  traversed  by  Alexander,  and 
so  many  chiefs  of  old  and  new  Rome,  and  in  part  by 
the  Crusaders  under  Walter  the  Penniless,  and  God- 
frey, more  than  a  century  afterwards,  when  their  bones 
whitened  the  plain.  Cassarea  had  been  refortified  and 
crowded  with  immense  contingents  and  vast  stores  as 
the  grand  base  of  the  expedition  into  Syria.  There 
Nicephorus  held  a  series  of  inspections,  musters,  and 
reviews.  At  many  of  these  Leo  the  student  was 
present,  under  the  guidance  of  his  friend,  Joannes,  and 
he  occupied  himself  with  careful  notes  as  to  all  the 
nations  and  tribes  which  he  there  saw  in  arms.  The 
musters  of  the  Charsian,  the  Armenian,  the  Cappado- 
cian,  and  Anatolian  themes  were  there  gathered — 
and  with  them  contingents  from  the  independent  Ar- 
menians, Georgians,  Abasgians,  and  Iberians.  Be- 
side them  marched  men  from  Europe,  Dalmatian  High- 
landers, Calabrians,  and  Beneventan  levies,  and  a 
strong  force  sent  from  the  vassal  republics  of  Venice 

356 


Love  and  Falsehood 

and  Amalphi,  from  the  lords  of  Gaeta,  and  Naples. 
Here,  too,  the  emperor  rejoined  John  Tzimisces  and 
his  somewhat  exhausted  force,  which  had  been  for  a 
year  engaged  with  the  Saracens  on  the  Syrian  fron- 
tier, meeting  alternate  success  and  reverse.  That 
army  was,  indeed,  so  much  shaken  and  reduced  by 
its  hard  service,  that  Nicephorus  was  compelled  to 
leave  John  at  Caesarea  to  recruit  his  men  and  to  or- 
ganize the  reserves  that  were  to  follow  as  required. 
Against  this  the  ardent  John  protested  in  his  own 
furious  way,  but  the  Basileus  forced  him  to  submit. 

From  Caesarea  the  army  prepared  to  enter  an  enemy's 
country,  and  the  imperial  paraphernalia,  state  tents, 
baggage  and  equipment,  had  been  left  behind.  Ni- 
cephorus was  now  in  active  campaigning  order.  All 
the  heights  and  forts  commanding  the  passes  of  Mount 
Taurus  had  been  occupied  in  strength,  and  the  main 
army  descended  into  the  plains  through  the  tremen- 
dous defiles  of  the  Cilician  Gates.  This  narrow  gorge, 
cut  through  the  limestone  precipices  of  the  range  by 
the  headwaters  of  the  Cydnus,  was  just  such  a  defile 
as  are  those  which  we  all  know  to-day  in  the  Alps, 
having  a  furious  torrent  roaring  over  huge  rocks, 
crowned  by  jagged  pinnacles,  and  clothed  with  pines, 
junipers,  and  cedars.  Through  these  sombre  gorges, 
amid  the  thunder  of  incessant  cataracts  and  rapids 
from  the  melted  snows,  the  whole  army  poured  with 
ease  and  safety,  for  it  was  summer,  and  every  point 
commanding  the  pass  was  already  defended  by  a  fort 
amply  manned  and  provisioned.  The  passes  once  sur- 
mounted, the  whole  army  was  at  last  securely  con- 
centrated and  posted  in  the  broad  and  teeming  valleys 
of  the  Cydnus,  the  Sarus,   and  the   Pyramus.     The 

357 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

whole  of  this  rich  country  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Romans.  Anazarba,  Adana,  Mopseutia,  and  twenty 
strong  places,  as  Leo  recounts,  were  taken  by  storm. 
Placing  a  strong  force  to  invest  Tarsus,  Nicephorus 
pressed  on  to  Issus.  This  captured,  the  road  was 
open  at  last  to  Antioch. 

The  triumphant  march  of  this  army  corresponded 
with  its  numbers,  which  Leo  seriously  placed  at  the 
enormous  total  of  four  hundred  thousand.  They  rav- 
aged the  country  far  and  wide,  driving  the  wretched 
inhabitants  before  them  into  the  fortified  places,  or 
reducing  them  by  myriads  into  slavery.  Leo  the  his- 
torian gives  us  a  terrible  picture  of  the  campaign  and 
all  its  horrors.  The  followers  of  the  Prophet  fought 
on  with  courage  and  obstinacy  behind  each  fortress; 
they  had  neither  numbers  nor  equipment  able  to  meet 
the  Romans  in  the  field.  Famine,  pestilence,  and  the 
tremendous  engines  of  the  invaders  slew  the  Saracens 
by  thousands.  When  cities  were  taken  by  storm,  all 
soldiers  in  arms  and  still  resisting  were  butchered; 
and  the  civic  population,  women  and  children,  were 
expelled  by  force,  sometimes  into  captivity,  sometimes 
into  exile.  Nicephorus  sternly  refused  conditional 
terms  of  capitulation  to  a  besieged  city  proposing  sur- 
render. "A  venomous  serpent,"  said  he,  "in  the 
winter  season  lies  torpid — one  would  think  it  dead; 
the  warmth  of  summer  returns,  and  it  is  alive  and  as 
dangerous  as  ever.  These  inveterate  enemies  of  Christ 
and  of  His  people  must  be  crushed  once  and  forever!" 
So  the  work  of  slaughter  and  extermination  went  on 
till  the  conquering  host  had  reached  the  confines  of 
Syria  and  the  Amanus. 

This  career  of  sanguinarv  triumph  was  now  sud- 
358 


Love  and   Falsehood 

denly  arrested  by  a  cause  the  truth  of  which  was  never 
allowed  to  be  known,  and  for  which  both  in  that  day 
and  since  many  different  explanations  have  been 
given.  It  was  rumored  through  the  host  that  the 
emperor  had  countermanded  the  advance,  and  grad- 
ually the  news  spread  that  he  himself  was  retracing 
his  steps.  One  night,  as  Nicephorus  had  presided  at 
the  storming  of  a  fortress  on  the  coast,  and  had  with 
difficulty  made  an  end  to  the  orgy  of  pillage  and 
slaughter,  an  urgent  petition  was  brought  to  him  from 
an  officer  of  rank,  who  pressed  for  a  private  interview 
on  a  matter  of  life  and  death  to  the  welfare  of  the  em- 
pire. Nicephorus  bade  them  admit  him  to  his  tent. 
It  was  Joannes,  "the  Geometer,"  who  had  been  left 
with  the  reserves  at  Caesarea,  and  had  now  hastened 
up  to  headquarters. 

"My  gracious  sovereign,"  said  John,  "let  me  speak 
freely  of  matters  of  high  treason  and  your  own  life. 
I  answer  for  my  truth  and  loyalty  with  my  head, 
which  I  place  in  your  hands." 

"Speak,"  said  Nicephorus. 

"John  Tzimisces,  sire,  whom  you  ordered  to  re- 
main at  the  base  to  recruit  his  own  army  and  to  re- 
organize the  reserves,  has  conceived  the  most  pas- 
sionate wrath  against  your  order  and  even  against 
yourself,"  said  Joannes. 

"He  broke  out  upon  me  with  tears,  and  almost  with 
curses,  when  I  gave  him  the  order,"  said  Nicephorus; 
"it  is  the  way  of  our  fiery  John.  He  will  cool  down 
in  time." 

"Sire,  he  has  not  cooled  down;  he  has  flamed  up 
more  fiercely  than  ever;  he  has  been  tampering  with 
the  loyalty  of  the  troops." 
24  359 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Your  proofs,"  said  the  emperor,  sternly. 

"Sire,  I  have  brought  you  copies  of  two  missives 
that  have  been  secretly  passed  round  the  two  new 
battalions  of  Armenian  levies.  I  was  present  myself 
when  Tzimisces  reviewed  them,  and  I  saw  him  smile 
with  joy  and  without  a  word  when  the  ranks  saluted 
the  commander  to  the  cry  of  'John,  our  Basileus!'  I 
have  been  through  their  camps  and  round  their  watch- 
fires,  and  I  have  heard  them  say,  'Our  John  has  been 
betrayed — Nicephorus  is  jealous  of  him.  Down  with 
Nicephorus — Long  live  John!"' 

The  Basileus  listened  in  silence,  read  and  re-read 
the  circular  appeals.  "Ay,"  he  said,  to  himself,  "it 
is  ever  so.  The  new  levies  go  after  a  new  man — and 
they  ever  follow  a  man  of  their  own  tribe.  What  is 
the  evidence,  my  young  friend,  that  John  Tzimisces 
has  lent  himself  to  treachery,  or  has  ceased  to  be  my 
loyal  colleague  and  officer?" 

"Only  this,"  said  Joannes,  at  last.  "Some  devoted 
servants  of  yours,  sire,  watched  the  quarters  of  Tzi- 
misces, and  one  night  there  was  found  a  man  near  it 
whom  we  knew  to  be  an  emissary  from  your  imperial 
retinue.  We  seized,  searched,  and,  as  he  resisted  with 
weapons,  we  slew  him.  In  a  fold  of  his  belt  we  found 
this  writing.  We  do  not  understand  it,  nor  do  we 
know  whence  it  comes."  He  handed  a  slip  of  parch- 
ment to  the  emperor. 

Nicephorus  understood  it.  He  knew  whence  it  came. 
He  knew  what  it  meant.  It  was  in  the  Armenian 
tongue.  It  was  in  a  handwriting  that  he  knew  well. 
It  ran  thus:  "From  the  prison  of  Drizibion,  one  who 
has  need  of  thee,  and  one  who  can  serve  thee,  calls  thee 
to  come  at  once,  for  counsel  and  for  protection." 

360 


Love  and   Falsehood 

Nicephorus  was  struck  dumb  with  horror  and  in- 
dignation, and  hardly  maintained  his  footing  or  his 
senses.  But  he  concealed  his  spasm  of  shame  and 
wrath  from  his  visitor.  "We  will  reflect  on  this.  Keep 
absolute  silence  as  to  all  you  know  and  all  that  has 
passed,"  said  he,  slowly.  With  assumed  calm  he  dis- 
missed Joannes  for  the  night. 

When  Nicephorus  was  alone  he  passed  some  ter- 
rible hours  of  agony  and  despair,  turning  over  in  his 
mind  every  catastrophe  that  threatened  the  army  by 
a  revolt  in  his  rear — and  the  wickedness  of  the  false 
wife  for  whom  he  had  suffered  so  much — whom  even 
now  it  racked  him  to  believe  so  cruel  and  faithless. 
After  hours  of  a  storm  of  passion  and  perplexity  he 
summoned  his  confidential  secretary — and  gave  or- 
ders for  preparation  to  be  made  for  his  own  return  by 
forced  posts  to  Caesarea  at  daybreak  the  next  day. 

What  had  happened  was  this.  During  the  halt  at 
Caesarea,  the  emperor,  being  his  own  commander-in- 
chief  and  superintending  every  stage  of  the  expedi- 
tion, had  been  incessantly  occupied  by  his  duties  and 
had  little  communication  of  any  kind  with  Theophano. 
More  than  once  he  had  noticed  her  presence  at  the  in- 
spections and  parades  held  by  Tzimisces,  and  he  had 
been  glad  to  see  her  take  new  interest  in  the  army, 
and  even  admit  to  her  court  so  gallant  a  soldier  and  so 
true  a  friend  as  the  "domestic  of  the  eastern  armies." 
As  these  visits  became  more  frequent,  Nicephorus  re- 
solved to  carry  on  the  empress  and  her  sons,  and  not 
to  leave  them  as  intended  at  Caesarea.  Against  this 
resolution  Theophano  had  vehemently  protested,  but 
in  vain.  But  her  indignation  was  unbounded  when, 
after  penetrating  a  day's  march  into  the  northern  de- 

361 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

files  of  the  Taurus,  she  found  that  she  was  to  be  left 
in  the  rocky  fortress  of  Drizibion.  This  was  a  castle 
of  impregnable  strength,  perched  on  a  precipitous  cliff 
in  the  centre  of  the  pass  that  led  to  the  Cilician  Gates. 
A  stormy  interview  had  passed  between  Basileus  and 
Basilissa: 

"What!"  she  said.  "Am  I,  the  Augusta,  to  be  a 
prisoner  in  this  wild  mountain  den  ?  Am  I  to  be  hid- 
den out  of  sight,  as  if  it  were  a  convent  of  nuns?  Are 
my  poor  children  to  be  shut  up  in  this  dreary  fort,  to 
pine  away  in  exile,  perhaps  to  be  murdered?" 

"Madam,"  said  the  Basileus,  gently,  and  yet  with 
decision,  "in  such  a  campaign  as  that  which  is  before 
us,  with  all  its  perils,  fatigues,  and  hardships,  it  would 
be  cruel  to  expose  a  lady  and  two  children  to  such  a 
life.  When  we  have  conquered  a  safe  and  fitting 
place  for  you  and  the  little  ones,  you  will  follow.  I 
and  my  army  will  not  be  so  very  far.  But  your  safety 
and  that  of  the  young  Basileis  is  my  first  care.  Here 
you  will  be  in  absolute  security,  and,  indeed,  in  lux- 
ury— in  a  place  which,  in  this  season,  has  everything 
pleasant.  You  will  have  all  the  retinue  you  brought 
hither,  and  the  whole  of  your  attendants  and  staff." 

"Why  was  I  dragged  from  Caesarea?"  she  asked, 
with  bitterness. 

"Cassarea  to-day  is  a  mere  camp  of  exercise.  It  is 
no  place  for  the  court  of  an  empress." 

"Am  I  a  prisoner?"  she  asked  again. 

"You  are  the  wife  of  the  Roman  emperor,"  said 
Nicephorus,  with  firm  voice,  "and  while  I  live  his  word 
shall  be  law."  With  this  he  closed  the  interview,  and 
went  forth  with  a  weight  as  a  stone  upon  his  heart. 

Theophano  watched  him  as  he  left  her  with  eyes 
362 


Love  and   Falsehood 

flaming  with   rage.     From  that  hour  she  nursed  in 
her  heart  plans  of  implacable  revenge. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  after  the  dreadful 
revelations  given  him  by  Joannes,  Nicephorus  ap- 
proached the  castle  of  Drizibion.  He  had  hurried  on 
in  front  of  his  escort,  almost  unattended,  travelling 
night  and  day,  and  torn  with  contending  emotions. 
Passionate  love,  indignation,  jealousy,  pity,  shame, 
and  horror,  filled  his  soul  by  turns.  Even  now  he 
could  hardly  resolve  upon  a  course  of  action.  Should 
he  confront  Theophano  with  the  evidence  of  her  guilt? 
Should  he  discard  her  and  immure  her  in  a  remote 
convent?  Should  he  seize  and  execute  Tzimisces? 
Would  the  faction  of  the  Basilissa  in  the  capital  raise 
an  insurrection  in  his  absence?  Would  the  army,  or 
half  of  it,  side  with  the  brilliant  and  popular  Tzimisces  ? 
Should  the  chiefs  of  Rome  in  this  death  -  grapple  be 
fighting  each  other  ?  What  then  would  be  the  issue  to 
the  crusade  against  the  Saracens?  What  would  be 
the  future  of  the  motherless  children — of  the  heirs 
of  Constantine  and  Romanus — of  the  Roman  empire 
itself? 

He  was  still  revolving  in  his  mind  all  these  questions 
when,  about  noon,  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  outer 
bulwarks  of  Drizibion.  He  amazed  the  guard  to  whom 
he  disclosed  himself,  and  ordered  them  to  remain  si- 
lent, as  he  intended  a  surprise  visit  to  the  empress. 
He  was  told  she  was  now  in  the  garden  of  the  castle 
with  her  children.  With  a  sign  to  the  door-keepers 
Nicephorus  passed  in.  It  was  a  lovely  spot.  Perched 
five  hundred  feet  above  the  bottom  of  a  mountain  val- 
ley, along  which  the  military  road  was  cut  beside  the 
tumbling  waters  of  the  torrent,  the  garden  was  shaded 

363 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

with  chestnut  and  limes  and  beech  trees,  adorned 
with  flowers  and  blossoming  shrubs.  It  commanded 
a  varied  spectacle  of  jagged  pinnacles  of  limestone, 
forests  of  pines  and  larches,  and  in  the  far  distance 
peaks  of  snow.  'Twas  a  glowing  day  of  summer. 
Nicephorus  paused.  And  now  he  saw  his  Theophano 
in  all  the  blaze  of  her  beauty,  in  her  airy  robes  of  silk 
gauze,  sitting  in  the  shade  of  a  chestnut-tree  and  ca- 
ressing her  younger  child.  Basil,  the  elder  boy,  was 
in  his  little  uniform  of  a  cataphractic  trooper,  playing 
with  his  toy  sword  and  slaying  the  heads  of  the  pop- 
pies. The  mother  gazed  on  the  children  with  delight, 
fondling  the  weaker  one  by  her  side,  and  watching  the 
martial  spirit  of  her  Basil. 

"One  day,  my  darling,"  she  was  saying  to  the  elder 
boy,  "they  will  let  us  go  away  from  this  dull  place, 
and  we  will  all  be  back  again  at  the  palace  at  home, 
where  you  shall  be  treated  again  as  the  Roman  Augus- 
tus, and  your  mother  will  again  receive  the  homage 
of  a  civilized  people,  and  not  of  these  uncouth  bar- 
barians, such  as  you  can  see  on  guard  below." 

"No,  mother,"  cried  the  little  Basil,  "I  do  not  care 
for  civilized  people!  I  want  to  lead  these  splendid  fel- 
lows in  battle.  I  want  to  use  a  real  sword.  I  want 
to  be  with  father  in  the  front!" 

The  mother  smiled,  much  as  if  she  had  the  soul  of  an 
Irene  within.  It  was  a  scene  of  pure  beauty,  peace, 
and  love.  It  struck  Nicephorus  to  the  heart  with  a 
new  flood  of  pity,  of  affection,  and  pride. 

Who  was  he  to  consign  such  loveliness  and  motherly 
instinct  to  a  cold  convent?  Could  such  grace,  such 
tenderness,  be  treacherous  and  false?  Could  he  blast 
the  young  lives  of  these  children  by  destroying  their 

364 


Love  and   Falsehood 

home  and  driving  their  mother  into  exile?  Still  un- 
certain what  he  would  do,  Nicephorus  stepped  forward, 
and  stood  before  her  with  a  look  of  profound  sadness 
and  reproach. 

"My  lord,  my  sovereign,  my  deliverer,"  cried  The- 
ophano,  rushing  forward  to  her  husband  when  she  saw 
his  look  of  sad  and  stern  reproof,  "you  have  come  to 
take  me  away  from  this  prison,  this  exile,  this  wilder- 
ness, where  I  and  my  babes  have  lived  in  sorrow,  while 
you  have  been  adding  fresh  glory  to  your  name,  and 
new  life  to  Rome?" 

The  little  Constantine  climbed  his  knee,  and  the  boy 
Basil  pulled  his  arm  to  show  his  father  how  many 
stalks  of  the  enemy  he  could  slash  off  with  a  single  blow. 

He  stood  irresolute  and  confounded.  Theophano 
fell  on  his  neck,  and,  weaving  her  arms  round  him,  she 
sobbed  on  his  breast,  murmuring,  "Take  us  from  this 
prison." 

"Whom  did  you  count  on  to  take  you  from  this 
prison,  to  whom  did  you  write  to  deliver  you?"  said 
Nicephorus. 

"To  whom  but  to  you — to  my  sovereign — to  my 
husband,"  she  said,  quickly — "to  whom  else  could  I 
look?  You  had  all  the  urgent  letters,  petitions,  mes- 
sages I  despatched  to  you  in  the  field?"  Nicephorus 
looked  silently  and  sternly,  and  said  not  a  word. 

"No?"  she  said,  with  a  gasp;  "you  did  not  receive 
them?"  And  then  she  added,  "You  did  not  receive 
even  my  last  short  summons  in  Armenian,  in  the  form 
in  which  I  used  to  write  when  I  made  you  Basileus  of 
Rome?"  she  said,  proudly.  "You  did  not  even  receive 
that  love-letter  of  mine?  I  thought  it  might  touch 
you  at  last." 

365 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Do  you  mean  this?"  said  he,  and  took  from  his 
bosom  the  Armenian  script — "  '  From  the  prison  of 
Drizibion,  one  who  has  need  of  thee,  and  one  who  can 
serve  thee,  calls  thee  to  come  at  once,  for  counsel  and 
for  protection.''  " 

"Ah!"  she  cried  in  triumph;  "then  you  did  have  the 
last,  and  it  brought  you!  My  lord,  my  husband,  and 
my  consoler!" 

And  she  moved  to  embrace  him  again. 

"Madam,"  he  said,  quietly,  "this  was  sent  not  to 
Tarsus,  where  I  was  in  the  field  at  the  siege,  but  to 
Caesarea,  to  the  camp  of  reserve." 

"Yes!  the  messenger  whom  I  sent  was  an  attendant 
of  my  own;  he  had  orders,  if  he  could  not  learn  where 
the  emperor  was  in  the  field,  to  go  on  to  Caesarea  to 
ascertain  from  the  officers  in  command  where  the  em- 
peror could  be  found.  By  the  Holy  Spirit,  I  swear  that 
he  had  strict  orders  to  hand  this  writing  to  no  one  but 
the  Basileus  himself.  You  see  he  has  done  so,  and  you 
have  come." 

"Madam,"  said  Nicephorus,  at  last,  slowly  and 
calmly,  "I  have  come,  and  I  have  come  as  the  result 
of  this  very  message.  But  your  messenger  did  not 
hand  it  to  me.  He  died  in  the  execution  of  his  orders. 
The  parchment  was  handed  to  me  by  the  man  who 
killed  him,  and  who  found  it  in  his  belt." 

A  long  and  terrible  silence  ensued.  At  last  Ni- 
cephorus spoke.  "I  have  come  to  take  you  back  to 
Caesarea,  and  to  place  you  there  in  safety,  till  this  war 
is  settled,  and  we  can  return  to  the  capital.  We  will 
say  no  more.  There  is  the  miserable  thing,"  and, 
tearing  it  to  fragments,  he  flung  them  over  the  preci- 
pice into  the  cataract  below. 

366 


Love  and   Falsehood 

"  Nicephorus,"  said  she,  in  a  voice  of  intense  anxiety 
and  fear,  "you  will  not  slay  me — nor  mutilate  my 
children — nor  put  us  away  in  exile?" 

He  turned  from  her  in  stern  silence,  and  now  almost 
with  loathing  and  scorn.  At  last  the  fire  of  love 
that  consumed  him  was  almost  burned  out  to  its 
embers. 

Having  given  orders  for  the  guards,  retinue,  and 
attendants  of  the  empress  and  of  her  sons  to 
be  at  once  moved  down  to  Csesarea,  Nicephorus 
hastened  thither  in  person  by  forced  marches,  and 
straightway  summoned  John  Tzimisces  to  his  quar- 
ters. 

Tzimisces  came  dashing  in  with  that  jovial  air  of 
hearty  good-fellowship  which  made  him  the  idol  of  the 
army.  He  was  still  chafing  under  the  injury  the  em- 
peror had  done  him  by  ordering  him  to  remain  behind 
in  camp,  but  he  recovered  his  temper  on  learning  that 
Nicephorus  now  ordered  him  to  start  for  Tarsus  at 
the  front,  while  the  emperor  in  person  remained  at 
Caesarea  to  organize  the  levies.  He  admitted  that  his 
Armenians  had  raised  disloyal  cries  at  parade,  but  he 
satisfied  the  emperor  that  he,  John,  had  been  no  party 
to  the  movement.  "Examine  my  staff  officers,"  said 
Tzimisces,  "and  see  if  you  can  find  a  trace  of  treason 
on  my  part  against  my  sovereign,  my  chief,  my  friend. 
It  is  true  that  he  cruelly  wronged  me  in  keeping  me 
here  like  a  raw  recruit,  while  he  revelled  in  glory  him- 
self. It  was  a  burning  shame,  and  I  have  told  my 
own  comrades  all  the  bitterness  I  feel.  But  as  to 
plotting  treason  to  overthrow  the  Basileus  —  no!  I 
am  not  yet  come  to  that !  John  has  a  hot  temper  and 
a  sharp  tongue,  and  will  strike  when  he  is  struck,  but 

367 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

he  is  not, a  back-stairs  conspirator  like  those  eunuchs 
and  cubiculars  of  the  palace." 

"You  have  had  no  cubicular  at  your  own  quarters?" 
asked  the  Basileus. 

"What,  I?"  replied  the  fiery  John.  "He  would  be 
kicked  forth  like  a  dog  if  he  came  to  my  tent,"  said 
John,  hotly  and  frankly. 

"You  had  no  missives  from  Drizibion?"  asked  Ni- 
cephorus. 

"  From  Drizibion  ?"  said  John.  "  What  is  that  ?  The 
castle  that  commands  the  pass  north  of  the  Cilician 
Gates?  I  know  not  who  commands  there,  nor  what 
can  he  want  from  me.  From  Drizibion?  Who  was 
stationed  there?" 

"The  Basilissa  and  her  sons,"  said  the  emperor, 
"and  all  their  guards  and  retinue." 

"What!"  said  Tzimisces — "the  empress  at  Drizibion? 
I  thought  you  carried  her  and  all  her  retinue  across 
into  Cilicia,  and  kept  her  beside  you  at  headquarters." 
And  John  looked  straight  into  the  eyes  of  Nicephorus, 
with  such  a  genuine  face  of  frankness  and  truth  that 
the  Basileus  now  saw  that  Tzimisces,  at  any  rate,  was 
no  party  to  the  plot — if  plot  there  were — was  not  guilty 
of  dishonoring  his  sovereign  and  his  friend. 

Nor  was  John  false,  nor  as  yet  at  all  seduced  by  the 
arts  of  Theophano.  Nicephorus  reflected  that,  ac- 
cording to  the  story  he  had  heard,  Tzimisces  had  never 
received  the  intercepted  missive.  There  was  no  un- 
doubted proof  that  it  was  addressed  to  Tzimisces  at 
all.  No  name  was  written,  and  Theophano  had  sworn 
that  it  was  addressed  to  her  own  husband.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  there  was  no  proof  that  Tzimisces  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  it,  nor  that  he  had,  either  before  or 

368 


Love  and  Falsehood 

since,  received  anything  of  the  kind.  No  proof;  but 
doubt,  gloom,  and  despair,  lay  ever  deep  down  in  the 
inmost  soul  of  Nicephorus  Phocas.  At  all  times  he 
was  rarely  seen  to  smile.  He  never  smiled  again  in 
life- 


XXV 
Love  and  Troth 

FAR  different  were  the  scenes  which,  during  this 
time,  were  being  enacted  in  Constantinople  itself. 
Leo,  the  curopalates,  and  his  father,  the  venerable 
Bardas  Caesar,  maintained  strict  order  and  good  gov- 
ernment in  the  capital,  and  carried  out  all  the  urgent 
orders  of  Nicephorus  for  the  safety  of  Digenes  the 
lord  warden,  and  of  Agatha  the  princess.  The  un- 
fortunate warden,  still  in  the  height  of  his  fever,  was 
carefully  removed  in  a  litter  to  the  palace  of  his  sister's 
husband,  the  Lord  Comnenus,  of  the  family  which 
ultimately  was  raised  to  the  throne.  There  his  sister, 
the  Lady  Theodosia  Comnena,  and  the  Princess  Agatha, 
with  their  attendants,  nursed  him  in  his  illness,  and 
there  he  was  treated  by  the  famous  physicians  The- 
ophanes  Nonnos  and  Synesios.  The  one  was  the  author 
of  an  important  Encyclopedia  of  Medicine,  the  other 
had  studied  under  Arabian  physicians,  and  translated 
their  works  into  Greek.  All  that  the  science  of  the  age, 
combined  with  all  the  love  of  two  noble  women,  could 
do  to  save  the  life  of  the  patient,  was  lavished  for 
many  an  anxious  week,  while  the  warden  lay  in  great 
danger  and  in  continual  delirium. 

At  times  he  would  fancy  himself  at  the  siege  of 
Chandax,  shouting  to  his  men  to  plunge  the  scaling- 

37° 


Love  and  Troth 

bridge  from  the  great  tower — "Down  with  her — clear 
the  gangway — another  ladder  there — water  on  that 
burning  roof — On,  my  men,  for  Rome — Christ! — 
Mother  of  God!" — and  then  he  would  sink  back  on  his 
pillow  exhausted,  groaning — "All  is  lost — has  our  God 
delivered  us  into  the  hands  of  the  Prophet  ? — Thy  will 
be  done — hallowed  be  Thy  name." 

At  other  times  he  would  fancy  himself  in  a  dungeon, 
while  he  could  hear  the  battle  raging  in  the  walls  round 
him,  and  he  would  cry  out — "Loose  me  from  these 
chains,  O  my  God! — I  hear  the  Romans  at  the  charge 
— am  I  chained  forever  like  a  dog  ? — give  me  my  sword 
— leave  me  but  one  hand  free — let  me  strike  one  blow 
for  Christ — oh!  this  is  worse  than  death — give  me  one 
hour  of  life  and  air  again — then  let  me  die  and  be 
heard  no  more." 

The  women  sat  beside  him,  silent,  in  tears,  watching 
his  ravings  with  pain  and  fear,  and  besought  the  learn- 
ed physicians  to  try  some  calming  drug.  With  this, 
on  other  days,  he  would  be  in  a  gentler  mood,  though 
still  in  delirium.  He  would  stare  at  Agatha  with  eyes 
open,  but  not  recognizing  who  she  was,  and  would 
murmur,  incoherently — "Sweet  lady,  you  have  saved 
me — let  me  save  you,  too — come  with  us  to  Rome — 
learn  to  pray  to  Mary — all  good  women  love  Mary — 
it  is  so  beautiful  to  see  them  in  the  gallery  there  in 
Hagia  Sophia — Theodosia  will  be  so  glad — if  you  only 
knew  Theodosia — and  I  think  Agatha  will  be  glad,  too! 
Agatha  is  so  kind  to  girls  she  loves — My  father  was  of 
Arab  race,  you  know." 

Agatha  listened  to  all  this  with  pity,  wonder,  and 
at  last  with  a  sense  of  pain.  "Of  whom  is  he  talking?" 
she  whispered.     "I  have  heard  of  a  Saracen  girl  who 

37i 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

saved  him  in  the  prison  in  Crete.  Oh!  she  is  in  his 
mind.  He  thinks  I  am  she.  He  loved  her  then,  and 
not  me,"  and  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears. 

"No,  no,"  Theodosia  broke  in,  "he  has  always  loved 
you,  dear,  but  he  has  often  told  me  how  the  emir's 
daughter,  Fatima,  saved  his  life,  how  he  saved  her 
honor,  and  how  he  hoped  she  would  consent  to  be- 
come a  Christian,  and  would  come  to  visit  me  here  in 
our  castle  in  the  Princes'  Islands.  My  brother  has 
always  loved  you,  Agatha.  Even  in  the  emir's  dun- 
geon he  prayed  to  Saint  Agatha,  and  saw  her  in  a  vision 
smiling  upon  him." 

"Was  Fatima  so  very  beautiful?"  asked  Agatha, 
suddenly. 

"Very  beautiful,"  said  Theodosia;  "she  was  thought 
to  be  like  her  brother,  Hassan,  who  died  in  our  father's 
castle  in  Cappadocia;  and  Digenes,  you  know,  was  his 
cousin,  and  singularly  like  him  in  countenance." 

"He  loved  Fatima,"  cried  Agatha,  in  agony;  "he 
thinks  now  that  I  am  Fatima,  he  is  dreaming  of  her 
now;  see  his  lips  move  with  words  of  tenderness — he 
will  die  loving  Fatima.  I  will  go  into  a  nunnery  and 
end  it  all." 

"  Oh!  speak  not  thus,"  cried  Theodosia;  "my  brother 
never  loved  woman  save  only  you.  He  is  very  kind 
and  generous,  and  the  soul  of  honor  and  chivalry.  He 
did  all  he  could  to  serve  the  woman  to  whom  he  owed 
his  life.  If  she  loved  him,  I  know  not;  I  am  told  she 
was  overjoyed  when  the  general  charged  Digenes  to 
take  her  and  her  sister  and  followers  to  Spain.  But 
this  I  know,  that  Digenes  never  loved  woman  but  his 
own  Agatha." 

"Ah,  yes!  the  lord  warden  was  chief  of  the  embassy 
372 


Love  and  Troth 

to  the  caliph  at  Cordova,  and  Fatima  was  in  that  mis- 
sion," and  Agatha  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
softly  wept  silent  and  bitter  tears  as  she  watched  the 
utter  exhaustion  of  their  patient. 

The  fever  had  many  intervals  of  abatement  and  then 
of  relapse.  One  night,  when  he  had  seemed  all  day  to 
be  stronger,  and  had  taken  more  food  than  usual,  his 
delirium  broke  out  in  a  terrible  form. 

"Take  her  away!"  he  shrieked  again  and  again. 
"It  is  a  fury ! — it  is  a  fiend ! —  She  seizes  my  hand ! — it 
burns  me  to  the  bone — never,  never,  will  I  be  false! — 
away!  away!  her  eyes  are  like  red-hot  iron — her  hair 
is  full  of  hissing  snakes — she  is  the  daughter  of  Satan 
— away  from  her! — away  from  her! — she  shall  not  touch 
you,  Agatha,  even  if  she  roast  me  to  a  cinder!  Mother 
of  God,  save  me  from  her!     Saint  Agatha,  save  me!" 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other  with  wonder 
and  horror  in  their  faces.  Neither  spoke.  They  knew 
nothing  of  what  had  passed.  They  imagined  things 
dreadful  and  unholy. 

"He  thinks  only  of  you,  Agatha,  as  his  protector 
and  saint,"  said  Theodosia,  at  last. 

Again  and  again  their  patient,  who  had  a  violent  re- 
lapse, broke  out  with  gasps  and  convulsive  agony — 
"There  is  blood  dripping  from  her  hands! — she  holds 
a  cup  of  poison! — she  calls  in  the  assassins! — she  is 
smiling  with  joy! — there,  they  are  stabbing  him  in  the 
back —  Help!  help!  treachery!  butchery! — it  is  the 
blood  of  the  Basileus  himself  that  chokes  me!" — and 
he  sank  back  groaning  out  the  words  in  gulps  of  rage 
— "she-devil!  murderess!  harlot!" 

The  women  cowered  in  terror  and  shame,  and  im- 
plored the  physicians  to  try  some  means  of  reducing 

373 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  delirium.  Theophanes  Nonnos  watched  these  re- 
current fits  with  minute  observation,  and  at  last  he 
noticed  how  the  patient,  in  these  wilder  moments  of 
violence,  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ceiling  of  the  apart- 
ment. He  frequently  pointed  with  his  hands,  as  if 
he  saw  actual  figures  aloft,  and  he  continually  waved 
his  arms  as  at  some  terrible  sights  above  his  head. 
Now,  Theophanes  Nonnos  was  a  diligent  student  of 
Hippocrates  and  Galen,  and  prone  to  watch  the  re- 
action of  external  surroundings  on  the  nervous  sys- 
tem of  his  patients.  He  then  saw  that,  on  the  frieze 
of  the  noble  apartment  to  which  Digenes  had  been 
carried,  and  facing  his  bed,  was  a  mosaic  decoration 
which  had  been  copied  from  the  same  original  as  the 
mosaic  wall  at  Ravenna,  which  represents  a  ceremonial 
procession  of  Justinian  the  Great  and  the  Empress 
Theodora.  This  picture  Nonnos  ordered  to  be  covered 
with  a  curtain  of  neutral  tone.  This  done,  the  spasms 
of  the  patient  rapidly  subsided. 

In  a  few  days  the  physicians  were  able  to  assure  the 
watchers  that  the  worst  of  their  anxieties  was  past, 
and  that  a  period  of  quiet  convalescence  had  set  in. 
Hour  after  hour,  so  far  as  his  returning  strength  per- 
mitted, Digenes  poured  out  to  Agatha  his  protesta- 
tions of  unbroken  devotion;  he  told  her  how  in  Asia, 
in  Crete,  in  Spain,  and  in  Thrace,  in  camp,  in  battle, 
in  prison,  in  the  palace,  and  in  church,  the  image  of 
the  saintly  Agatha  had  been  his  consolation  and  hope; 
he  told  her  how  the  Basileus  had  given  his  formal  con- 
sent to  their  marriage,  and  had  given  orders  for  its 
celebration  with  the  highest  honors,  so  soon  as  the 
warden  was  restored  to  health.  His  health  now,  he 
murmured,  wanted  but  one  thing  to  be  as  good  as 

374 


Love  and  Troth 

ever.  Would  she  say  what  day,  next  month,  he  might 
call  her  his  own  ?  Would  she  bend  down  to  his  pillow, 
whisper  it  in  his  ear,  and  seal  it  with  a  kiss — one  kiss 
— the  first  she  had  ever  vouchsafed  to  him  ? 

Agatha  listened  with  rapture?  She  did  bend  down 
and  whisper  in  his  ear,  and  suffer  her  lips  to  rest 
on  his.  She  did  not  tell  him  how  often,  during  his 
long  delirium,  her  lips  had  touched  his  burning  fore- 
head and  his  fevered  hands,  as  she  stooped  down  to 
bathe  them  with  attar  of  roses  and  orange  -  water. 
But  she  was  very  slow,  indeed,  to  believe  that  her 
Digenes  had  never  loved  the  fascinating  houri  of  the 
old  emir's  castle  —  not  for  a  time — not  for  a  day — 
not  just  a  little  bit  in  all  chivalry  and  faith?  Nor 
could  anything  persuade  her  that  the  Lady  Fatima 
had  not  loved  her  Digenes,  loved  him  passionately, 
truly,  in  all  honor  and  in  all  sincerity.  It  was  quite 
impossible  that  a  woman  of  feeling  and  goodness  could 
owe  so  much  to  her  Digenes,  could  be  on  such  terms  of 
sentiment  and  confidence,  and  be  half  converted  to 
his  religion,  and  not  love  him.  Any  woman  so  near 
must  love  him,  would  love  him,  ought  to  love  him. 

At  last,  one  day,  Agatha  was  finally  convinced  that 
she  had  the  whole  heart  of  Digenes,  and  had  never 
ceased  to  have  it,  from  the  hour  when  she  first  met 
him  as  a  girl  in  her  father's  court,  and  had  seen  the 
young  hero,  whose  feats  and  chivalry  the  poets  com- 
memorated in  song.  The  lord  warden  was  now  very 
much  restored  to  health,  and  wholly  to  his  reason  and 
consciousness.  Agatha  had  read  to  him  some  of  his 
favorite  pieces,  the  parting  of  Hector  and  Andromache 
in  the  sixth  Iliad,  and  the  parting  scene  from  the  "  Al- 
cestis"  of  Euripides.     He  had  even  asked  her  to  recite 

25  375 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  famous  lines  of  Sappho — from  the  poems  which 
were  then  all  extant — 

tyaiverai  /xoi  /cfjvo<;  t'cro?  Oeoicnv — 

("that  man  seems  to  me  the  peer  of  gods") 

— but  she  archly  refused,  as  he  was  not  strong  enough 
to  listen  to  such  fiery  poetry,  and  she  was  not  going  to 
recite  such  pagan  stuff. 

To  them  entered  the  lady  Theodosia  Comnena,  who 
gayly  saluted  her  brother  with  the  words,  "News, 
news,  something  that  will  interest  you  both,  some- 
thing I  trust  that  will  give  you,  brother,  as  much  pleas- 
ure as  it  will  give  Agatha." 

"A  conundrum,"  said  they  both;  "we  give  it  up." 

"A  rival  of  yours,  Agatha,  a  flame  of  yours,  broth- 
er," said  Theodosia,  with  a  peal  of  laughter. 

"That  dear  girl,  Sophia,  the  daughter  of  the  old 
Emir  Abd-el-Aziz,  has  just  come  to  see  me.  Her 
brother,  the  captain,  young  Anemas,  who  was  sent  on 
the  embassy  to  Fez,  and  afterwards  to  Cordova,  has 
persuaded  the  Lady  Fatima,  your  ladylove  in  Crete, 
brother,  to  accept  the  pressing  invitation  of  Sophia  and 
her  father,  to  visit  them  in  Prote.  She  is  to  come 
with  her  brother  and  sister,  and  within  six  months 
Fatima  shall  go  with  us  to  hear  the  Patriarch  perform 
divine  service.  And  before  a  month  more  is  passed 
she  shall  marry  Anemas,  before  he  joins  the  Basileus 
in  Syria.  So  think  no  more,  brother,  of  your  tawny 
angel.  She  is  to  stay  with  the  whole  blood  of  the 
Prophet,  Christian  though  she  will  be,  and  Christian  as 
Anemas  already  is." 

"Thanks  be  to  Mary  of  the  Daphne,"  said  Dige- 
376 


Love  and  Troth 

nes,  with  hearty  rejoicing.     "Has  she  promised  Ane- 

mas?" 

"  Not  yet,  to  marry,"  said  Theodosia,  "but  that  is  an 
incident.  She  has  promised  to  come,  brother,  and  she 
believes  that  you  are  married  by  this  time  yourself." 

"Who  told  her  that?"  said  Agatha,  quickly. 

"Well,  I  strongly  suspect  that  Anemas  told  her,  as 
an  indispensable  condition  of  proposing  marriage  with 
himself." 

"Ah!  then  I  was  right,  after  all,"  said  Agatha,  with 
a  deep  sigh,  and  looked  earnestly  and  almost  reproach- 
fully at  Digenes. 

"My  beloved,"  said  the  young  hero,  with  deep  feel- 
ing, "your  suspicions  were  true,  perhaps,  in  part. 
But  as  to  me,  I  have  been  ever  true  throughout." 

"Another  piece  of  news,"  said  Theodosia,  "if  you 
two  can  keep  a  secret  which  is  not  to  be  blurted  out 
to  these  palace  gossips:  Eric,  the  young  Varangian, 
will  one  day  marry  Sophia  when  he  comes  back  from 
the  wars,  where  he  is  winning  glory  on  the  staff  of  the 
Basileus  in  Asia.  There  may  be  two  weddings  on  the 
same  day.  Nay,  brother,  perhaps  there  might  be 
three  on  the  same  day,  and  the  Basileus  preside  in 
person  at  the  ceremony!" 

"Tut!"  cried  Digenes,  with  animation,  "not  for  us. 
I  do  not  wait  till  Eric  and  the  Basileus  return,  nor 
till  Anemas  can  wring  a  'yes  '  from  his  bride." 

"No,  nor  till  Fatima  can  be  persuaded  to  visit  her 
cousin  in  Prote,"  said  Agatha,  archly.  She  was  now 
at  last  convinced  that  Digenes  had  never  failed  her 
in  thought  or  in  word — no,  not  for  an  hour;  but  she 
still  meant  to  be  married  before  Fatima  could  reach 
Constantinople, 

377 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

By  slow  degrees,  and  in  very  guarded  and  modified 
ways,  Digenes  allowed  Agatha  to  know  as  much  of 
what  had  passed  in  the  palace  as  he  could  remember, 
and  as  much  as  he  thought  it  kind  or  prudent  as  yet 
to  tell  to  the  pure  and  gentle  spirit  with  whom  he  was 
to  be  united.  The  astrologer's  potion  had  confused 
his  brain  to  such  a  degree  that  he  had  but  a  broken 
memory  of  the  interview  with  Theophano.  His  long 
illness,  with  its  continued  delirium,  had  left  him  with 
a  mind  troubled  as  with  a  series  of  terrible  and  in- 
comprehensible dreams.  He  could  not  shock  the  girl 
in  her  happiness  with  all  his  horrible  suspicions  and 
recollections.  Nor  would  Agatha,  on  her  side,  as  yet 
trouble  his  mind  with  all  that  she  suspected  and  feared. 

At  last,  having  exchanged  confidences  as  far  as 
they  each  thought  it  kind  and  wise  to  speak,  it  was 
agreed  between  them  that  in  the  tremendous  crisis  of 
the  great  war,  in  the  weight  of  cares  that  beset  the 
Basileus  day  and  night,  they  would  not  harass  him 
with  the  torture  of  fresh  revelations,  of  which  the  for- 
mal proofs  would  not  be  easy  to  find. 

"Agatha,"  said  Digenes,  solemnly,  one  day,  on  re- 
ceipt of  the  inexplicable  news  of  the  sudden  retreat 
of  the  Basileus  to  Csesarea,  in  the  very  midst  of  the 
campaign,  "the  Basileus  has  called  me  to  the  front 
by  special  messenger.  I  start  for  the  camp  in  an 
hour." 

"Go,"  she  said,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "if  it  must  be. 
I  will  wait  till  you  come  again  with  fresh  renown. 
The  cause  of  this  Empire  of  Rome,  of  God,  of  the 
Mother  of  God,  shall  not  be  hindered  one  hour  by 
the  love  of  one  feeble  girl." 

"Think  me  not  unkind,  my  love,  my  hope,  my  saint," 
378 


Love  and  Troth 

cried  the  young  hero,  with  the  light  of  battle  for  Christ 
and  His  people  in  his  eyes — "think  me  not  unkind  if 
I  have  to  hasten  away  from  the  holy  shrine  in  which 
your  love  has  suffered  me  to  kneel,  to  worship,  and  to 
adore ;  think  me  not  cold  if  I  hurry  off  to  my  sovereign 
and  my  command.  I  could  not  love  thee  so  well,  if 
it  were  not  that  I  loved  my  duty  even  more." 

With  one  long  kiss  they  parted — nor  did  they  meet 
again  on  earth. 


XXVI 
Old  Rome 

THE  scene  now  passes  from  the  Imperial  Palace  of 
New  Rome  on  the  Bosphorus  to  the  Catholic  Ba- 
silica of  Old  Rome  on  the  Tiber,  where  the  greatest  of 
the  Saxon  line  of  emperors  was  about  to  claim  the  in- 
heritance of  the  Cassars  and  to  instal  his  house  as  su- 
preme in  all  Italian  lands.  It  was  Christmas  eve, 
967,  on  a  bright  morning  of  winter,  when  snow  lay  on 
Mount  Soracte  and  on  the  higher  ranges  of  the  Sabine 
and  Alban  mountains.  The  Flaminian  way,  from  the 
city  gate  under  the  Pincian  hill,  for  the  two  miles  to 
the  Milvian  bridge  over  the  Tiber,  was  thronged  with  a 
motley  crowd  of  the  populace  of  Rome,  bearing  visible 
signs  of  its  heterogeneous  origin  and  lawless  habits, 
along  with  officials,  civil  and  ecclesiastical,  in  their 
state  robes  and  with  emblems  of  office,  and  strong  de- 
tachments of  Northern  soldiers,  both  horse  and  foot, 
whom  the  Roman  mob  regarded  with  terror  as  mon- 
sters of  ferocity  and  force.  The  prefect  and  the  senate 
of  Rome — a  strange  contrast  from  the  senators  who 
had  gone  to  welcome  Julius  and  Octavius  some  thou- 
sand years  before — were  hurrying  along  to  meet  their 
German  emperor,  intermixed  with  the  standard-bear- 
ers of  the  Roman  militia,  the  long  processions  of  priests 
and  choristers,  and  the  counts  and  barons  of  the  Italian 

380 


Old  Rome 

fiefs  in  military  array  and  fantastic  armor.  It  was  a 
strange  jumble  of  races,  types,  and  various  characters. 
The  mongrel  and  craven  descendants  of  African,  Syrian, 
or  Slavonian  slaves  jostled  the  degenerate  heirs  of  the 
ancient  patricians,  and  both  looked  on  with  awe  and 
wonder  at  the  huge,  fair-haired  barbarians  who  took 
their  orders  from  no  man  but  their  mighty  chief,  the 
Saxon  Otto. 

At  the  northern  end  of  the  Melvian  bridge  there  had 
been  erected  a  rude  and  hasty  kind  of  triumphal  arch, 
decorated  with  the  emblems  and  colors  of  the  emperor- 
king.  Near  it  was  posted,  waiting  to  see  the  imperial 
procession  pass,  a  small  band  of  spectators,  whose 
speech  and  garb  proclaimed  them  to  be  foreigners  at 
Rome.  One  was  our  friend  Michael,  the  protocolist, 
who,  with  Joann'es  Kyriotes,  the  geometer,  had  been 
despatched  by  the  ever-watchful  Chancery  of  Constan- 
tinople on  a  roving  and  secret  commission  to  observe 
the  current  of  Italian  politics,  and  especially  to  study 
the  real  feeling  of  the  papal  court,  and  also  of  the  de- 
mocracy of  Rome.  With  them  was  Symeon,  a  learned 
divine,  who  was  travelling  to  obtain  traditions  and 
legends  for  his  great  collection  of  the  lives  of  saints  and 
martyrs.  A  fourth  foreigner  was  Alexios,  an  artist 
in  mosaic  decoration,  who  had  been  called  from  By- 
zantium to  Rome  to  superintend  the  restoration  of 
the  dilapidated  mosaics  in  the  Church  of  St.  Cosmas  and 
St.  Damianos.  They  were  being  personally  conducted 
by  Guido,  a  Sicilian  long  settled  in  Bari,  in  the  Lom- 
bard Theme,  a  loyal  subject  of  the  Byzantine  emperor. 
The  whole  party  had  their  own  armed  attendants,  as 
well  as  a  small  body-guard  from  the  municipal  police, 
for  the  state  of  Rome  was  far  too  unsettled  to  permit 

38i 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

of  distinguished  Greeks  being  safe  in  the  midst  of  a 
turbulent  crowd. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  said  Michael  to  Joannes,  "that  these 
battered  walls  of  old  Rome  can  have  kept  at  bay  for 
a  single  day  the  mighty  King  of  Germany?" 

"  Well,  they  helped  Belisarius  to  beat  off  the  Goths," 
said  Joannes;  "but  then  they  had  our  soldiers  under 
a  great  chief  inside  them." 

"  I  dare  say  they  may  serve  to  baffle  Goths  and  Ger- 
mans," said  Michael,  "but,  though  I  am  no  soldier,  I 
can  see  that  these  obsolete  and  now  ruinous  walls  never 
could  be  compared  for  an  instant  with  the  mighty  for- 
tifications we  could  show  them  at  home  on  the  Bos- 
phorus." 

"The  walls  of  old  Rome  are  poor  enough,"  Guido 
now  broke  in,  "but  the  castle  of  the  Archangel,  with 
the  chapel  on  the  top  of  the  old  Mausoleum  of  the 
Antonines,  that  is  a  pretty  stronghold,  I  assure  you." 

"I  admit  that  that  is  a  tremendous  fort,"  said 
Michael,  "and  the  sight  of  its  tiers  of  colonnades  and 
battlements  makes  one  understand  how  Theodora  and 
Marozia,  Alberic  and  Octavian,  managed  to  command 
the  city  and  even  defy  both  Lombard,  Tuscan,  and 
German." 

"Ah,"  said  Guido,  "you  honorable  and  reverend 
sirs  in  New  Rome  cannot  conceive  the  pandemonium 
that  has  raged  in  old  Rome  ever  since  I  can  remember 
and  all  through  my  father's  time.  One  Messalina 
after  another,  the  daughter,  the  concubine,  and  the 
mother  of  a  pope  has  made  her  lovers  or  her  children 
despots  of  the  city,  bishops,  or  popes,  as  the  fancy 
seized  her.  Every  other  year  this  Roman  populace, 
which   is   no   good   at   fighting,   but  has   a  diabolical 

382 


Old  Rome 

genius  for  riot,  breaks  out  and  overturns  consul,  pre- 
fect, pope,  and  emperor,  as  the  German  king  calls 
himself.  Thereupon  down  comes  an  army  of  these 
hairy  barbarians  from  Lombardy,  over  the  Apennines 
or  the  Alps,  bursts  into  these  tottering  gates,  crowns 
a  new  pope,  instals  a  new  count  as  governor,  mas- 
sacres, hangs,  tortures,  and  burns  every  man  they 
find  in  their  path." 

"How  many  popes  have  you  seen,  Master  Guido?" 
asked  Symeon. 

"John  X.,  strangled  in  prison.  Then  Leo  VI.  and 
Stephen  VII.,  both  creatures  of  the  foul  woman  who 
killed  John.  Then  she  made  her  own  son  pope  by  the 
name  of  John  XI.  A  few  years  after  this  Marozia's 
son,  Alberic,  made  Leo  VII.  pope,  and,  after  him, 
Stephen  VIII.  and  Marinus  II.  and  Agapetus  II.,  in 
succession.  Then  John  XII.,  the  grandson  of  Marozia, 
was  the  worst  of  them  all — denounced  by  a  synod  as 
guilty  of  murder,  perjury,  incest,  sacrilege,  and  magic. 
When  John  XII.  was  deposed,  came  Leo  VIII.,  then 
Benedict  V.,  who  was  also  deposed,  and  now  the  suc- 
cessor of  St.  Peter  is  our  Holy  Father,  the  venerable 
John  XIII.,  whom  God,  in  His  infinite  goodness,  give 
to  live  the  years  of  St.  Peter." 

"Why,  that  makes  as  many  as  twelve  Holy  Fathers 
of  Rome  within  forty  years,"  said  Michael,  with  a  sneer. 

"  Such  is  Rome,"  said  Guido ;  "  and  half  of  them  were 
the  lovers,  sons,  or  nephews  of  a  bloodthirsty  harlot, 
at  whose  orders  they  sell  bishoprics,  blind,  mutilate, 
torture,  and  crucify  their  opponents  and  rivals." 

"And  they  call  this  the  universal  Church  Catholic, 
and  ask  ours,  the  earliest  Church  of  Christ,  to  submit 
to  their  sacred  prerogative,"  said  Michael,  bitterly. 

383 


Theophano  :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Ah!''  sighed  Symeon,  "it  is  a  fearful  backsliding. 
But  God  in  His  mercy  will  bring  about  their  repentance 
in  His  good  time.  We,  who  compile  the  hagiographies 
of  saints  and  martyrs,  cannot  forget  that  under  these 
Roman  basilicas  there  rest  the  bones  of  the  blessed  St. 
Peter  and  St.  Paul,  that  this  city  has  been  ruled  by 
Gregorys  and  Leos,  and  is  sanctified  by  the  blood  of 
so  many  virgins  and  martyrs  of  the  faith.  The  Church 
of  Christ  will  be  restored  one  day,  and  Rome  again  will 
be  the  centre  of  Christendom  in  Europe." 

"I  will  not  attempt  to  prophesy  against  your  rever- 
ence," said  Guido;  "I  can  only  speak  of  what  is  and 
what  has  been  in  all  living  memory.  This  famous  city 
is  now  a  den  of  bandits,  the  haunt  of  infamous  women, 
and  a  scene  of  bloodshed  and  torment.  These  barons 
live  in  their  castles  amid  gangs  of  hired  ruffians,  till 
they  ride  forth  to  fight  one  another  or  to  plunder  their 
neighbors.  I  have  seen  these  gray  walls  hung  with 
the  carcasses  of  their  victims,  and  these  streets,  churches, 
and  streams  run  with  blood,  whenever  the  horsemen 
of  some  pretender  to  the  throne  or  of  the  German 
princes  come  down  to  sack  the  city  or  to  quell  an 
insurrection  of  the  citizens.  I  have  seen  popes  made 
and  unmade  at  the  order  of  a  profligate  woman  or  of  a 
murderous  despot.  I  have  seen  one  crowned  pope 
trample  on  another  crowned  pope,  break  his  crozier 
and  tear  off  his  robes  in  presence  of  an  emperor  and 
of  all  his  court.  I  have  seen  the  prefect  of  Rome  hung 
by  his  hair  from  the  statue  of  Constantine  and  dragged 
through  the  streets  naked  on  an  ass.  I  saw  twelve 
'captains  of  the  regions'  hung  on  gallows,  while 
other  leaders  were  blinded,  some  decapitated.  Some 
were  torn  from  their  graves  and  their  bodies  cast  to 

384 


Old  Rome 

the  dogs.  This  is  the  modern  rendering  of  the  Pax 
Romana,  and  all  is  done  under  orders  of  him  whom 
we  are  waiting  here  to  see,  him  whom  they  call  their 
'pacific  emperor,  Semper  Augustus,'  and  with  the 
blessing  of  the  creatures  whom  he  pleases  to  nominate 
as  the  successors  of  St.  Peter." 

This  conversation  of  the  Byzantines  was  fortunately 
not  understood  by  the  bystanders,  and  it  was  now 
broken  off  by  the  arrival  of  the  German  emperor  and 
his  staff.  Otto  of  Saxony,  who  had  been  emperor 
for  six  years,  and  had  been  occupied  ever  since  with 
the  conspiracies,  intrigues,  and  revolutions  of  Italian 
princes,  prelates,  and  people,  was  now  again  entering 
Rome  in  martial  array.  He  was  guarded  by  powerful 
bodies  of  his  Northern  veterans,  the  terrible  warriors 
with  whom  he  had  established  his  rule  from  the  Tiber 
to  the  Elbe,  with  whom  he  had  triumphed  over  Danes, 
Slavonians,  and  Burgundians,  men  who  had  fought 
with  him  on  the  tremendous  field  of  the  Lech,  when 
he  saved  Europe  from  the  Hungarian  flood.  These 
gigantic  horsemen  proudly  bore  aloft  the  ensigns  of 
their  great  chief,  and  thrust  their  way  with  brutal  con- 
tempt among  the  "dregs  of  Romulus"  in  the  road. 

In  the  midst  of  his  chivalrous  body-guard  rode  the 
great  Otto  in  full  panoply,  acknowledging  the  saluta- 
tions of  the  people  with  magnificent  ease,  making  lit- 
tle difference  in  his  bearing  to  prelate,  baron,  or  cap- 
tain of  the  urban  militia.  By  his  side  rode  his  son 
Otto,  then  fourteen,  destined  to  lay  his  bones  in  early 
life  in  the  Church  of  St.  Peter.  And  then  came  the 
Empress  Adelheida,  whose  beauty  and  inheritance  had 
first  called  the  king  into  Italy.  The  imperial  cortege 
was  surrounded  by  German  and  Italian  barons,  and 

385 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

was  welcomed  by  Roman  prelates  and  nobles,  with 
banners  and  the  chanting  of  hymns  and  the  boisterous 
acclamations  of  a  fickle  populace,  which  was  ever  ready 
to  cheer  or  to  revile,  as  the  popular  fancy  swayed  to 
and  fro. 

"Do  you  see  that  fierce,  bull-headed  lord  on  the 
black  charger,  and  as  proud  as  a  peacock?"  said  Guido 
to  his  friends.  "That  is  Count  Pandulph,  of  Capua, 
now  Lord  of  Spoleto  and  Beneventum.  He  is  traitor 
to  our  Basileus — nay,  the  head  of  the  traitors — and 
seeking  to  win  favor  from  the  German  Basileus.  That 
gay  Roman  prince  is  Crescentius  of  the  Marble  Horse, 
and  by  his  side  is  the  Count  Benedict  of  Palestrina 
and  the  rich  and  beautiful  Stephania,  the  senatrix. 
Now,  watch  that  bishop  on  the  mule  in  the  train  of 
the  king;  notice  his  keen  face,  his  subtle  glances  all 
round,  his  easy  smiles  of  welcome,  how  he  fawns  on 
the  imperial  officers,  what  airs  of  importance  he  as- 
sumes as  he  waves  his  blessing  to  those  who  salute 
him  and  thrusts  aside  those  who  impede  his  path. 

"That  is  the  Right  Reverend  Luitprand,  the  famous 
Bishop  of  Cremona — Patriarch  of  Christendom,  as  he 
thinks  himself,  and  Lord  High  Parakeimomenos  of  his 
Frankish  Majesty.  Note  him  and  listen  to  him.  He 
talks  Greek,  Latin,  Frank,  or  Hebrew,  I  am  told — 
even  Arabic  at  a  pinch.  He  has  the  Caesar's  ear.  We 
shall  hear  more  of  him." 

As  the  Byzantine  visitors  made  their  way  back  to 
the  city,  their  guide  from  Bari  was  occupied  in  answer- 
ing their  questions  and  satisfying  their  curiosity.  "  It 
looks  as  if  the  whole  city  had  been  destroyed  by  Sara- 
cens," said  Michael;  "I  see  nothing  but  ruins  standing 
amid  dunghills  and  rubbish  heaps.     And  those  huge 

386 


Old  Rome 

towers  of  brick,  with  battlements  of  stone,  rising  out 
of  mud  hovels  and  fetid  alleys.  Are  those  the  places 
of  the  Roman  princes?" 

"They  look  to  me  like  the  dens  of  robbers,  piled  up 
out  of  marble  ruins.  See  those  Corinthian  columns 
and  those  porphyry  slabs,  awkwardly  stuck  into  a 
huge  barrack  of  bricks.  These  Romans  use  the  an- 
cient temples  of  the  old  gods  as  lime-kilns,  and  the  cir- 
cus and  theatres  of  the  Caesars  as  so  many  quarries 
to  make  some  gloomy  fortress,"  said  Joannes. 

"Woe,  woe  is  Rome!"  groaned  Symeon;  "thy 
glory  is  departed.  Desolation  has  made  in  thee  its 
home!" 

"Not  only  is  the  glory  of  Rome  departed,  but  art, 
culture,  letters,  and  manners  have  gone,  too,"  said 
Alexios,  the  artist.  "They  curse  the  Vandals,  Goths, 
Huns,  and  Lombards;  but  these  Romans  to-day  are 
just  as  savage  themselves,  even  worse  barbarians,  for 
they  mangle  and  disfigure  even  their  own  ruins.  All 
sense  of  beauty  and  all  traditions  of  art  seem  to  have 
quitted  Italy  and  taken  refuge  on  the  Bosphorus  or 
the  shores  of  the  ^Egean.  They  could  not  decorate 
the  smallest  chapel  without  our  help." 

Early  on  the  morning  of  Christmas  day  the  Byzan- 
tine visitors  were  conducted  into  the  Vatican  Basilica 
to  witness  the  crowning  of  the  young  Otto  with  the 
imperial  diadem,  the  ceremony  by  which  the  politic 
emperor  sought  to  fix  the  empire  as  hereditary  in  his 
house,  and  instal  it  in  effective  control  of  the  whole 
of  Italy.  They  found  the  German  troopers  strongly 
posted  within  and  around  the  Castle  of  the  Archangel, 
the  frowning  bastile  which  overawed  Rome,  and  rude- 
ly thrusting  back  the  unprivileged  mob  of  sight-seers. 

387 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

From  the  iElian  bridge  over  the  Tiber  they  traversed 
the  long  colonnade  which  led  to  the  atrium  of  St. 
Peter's,  with  its  fountain  and  the  tombs  of  popes. 
There  they  witnessed  the  pope,  John  XIII.,  and  his 
cardinals  receive  the  imperial  party  on  the  thirty-five 
steps  of  the  entrance.  With  martial  surroundings  and 
sacerdotal  pomp  the  mighty  Otto,  his  wife  and  son, 
were  conducted  into  the  basilica  of  Constantine,  which 
had  then  been  the  venerated  temple  of  Rome  for  six 
centuries  and  a  half. 

The  Vatican  basilica  of  the  tenth  century  was,  of 
course,  wholly  unlike  the  St.  Peter's  we  see  to-day.  It 
was  quite  similar  to  the  restored  church  of  St.  Paul's 
fuori  la  Mura,  as  we  now  see  it,  but  it  was  some  twenty 
feet  longer  and  a  little  wider,  and  had  five  naves  di- 
vided off  by  four  rows  of  vast  monolith  columns. 
There  were  ninety-six  in  all,  of  various  marbles,  dif- 
ferent in  style  and  even  in  size,  for  they  had  been  the 
first  hasty  spoils  of  antique  palaces  and  temples.  The 
walls,  above  the  order  of  columns,  were  decorated  with 
mosaics,  such  as  no  Roman  hand  could  then  produce 
or  even  restore.  A  grand  arch,  such  as  we  see  at  the 
older  basilicas  to-day,  enriched  with  silver  plates  and 
adorned  with  mosaic,  separated  the  nave  from  the 
chancel,  below  which  was  the  tribune,  an  inheritance 
from  the  praetor's  court  of  old.  It  now  contained  the 
high  altar  and  the  sedile  of  the  Vicar  of  Christ.  Be- 
fore the  high  altar  stood  the  Confession,  the  vault 
wherein  lay  the  bones  of  St.  Peter,  with  a  screen  of 
silver  such  as  the  Greeks  called  iconostasis,  crowded 
with  silver  images  of  saints  and  virgins.  And  the 
whole  was  illuminated  by  a  gigantic  candelabrum 
holding  more  than  a  thousand  lighted  tapers. 

388 


Old  Rome 

The  Byzantine  visitors  were  amazed  to  find  the 
cathedral  of  old  Rome  so  utterly  different  from  their 
own  St.  Sophia  at  home.  It  was  nearly  one  hun- 
dred feet  longer  and  not  much  less  in  width.  Its 
mosaics,  its  monoliths,  and  its  tribune  resembled  those 
of  the  great  temple  of  Justinian,  but  its  flat  roof,  long 
aisles,  rude  workmanship,  and  want  of  symmetry 
roused  contempt  and  pity  from  the  cultivated  taste 
of  the  Greek  artist.  The  basilica  of  St.  Peter's  was 
indeed  but  a  crude  adaptation  of  the  law-courts  of 
the  Caesars,  while  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Wisdom  was 
one  of  the  most  original  creations  in  the  whole  record 
of  human  art. 

Otto,  Adelheida,  and  their  son  were  conducted  by 
a  splendid  procession  of  nobles  and  prelates  to  their 
appointed  places  at  the  foot  of  the  Confession,  where 
they  prostrated  themselves  in  worship,  and  then  passed 
on  to  their  thrones.  The  emperor — for  in  Rome,  at 
any  rate,  Otto  was  indeed  the  sole  "  Augustus,  crowned 
by  God" — was  now  not  only  master  of  Rome,  of  North- 
ern and  Central  Italy,  but  practically  lord  of  the  pope 
and  sovereign  in  all  causes  civil  or  ecclesiastical.  Otto 
bore  himself  as  in  very  deed  the  sovereign  lord  of  the 
holy  Roman  empire.  He  condescended  to  beam  ap- 
proval on  the  act  of  his  nominee,  the  holy  father, 
when  the  pope  raised  the  crown  of  gold  and  placed  it 
on  the  beautiful  head  of  the  imperial  boy,  whom  he 
pronounced  to  be  Imperator  Augustus,  by  the  will  of 
God.  As  these  sacramental  words  rang  through  the 
church,  all  hushed  in  profound  silence,  the  whole  con- 
gregation burst  forth  into  acclamations  of  "Long  life 
and  victory!"  Thrice  the  shout  was  repeated;  and 
then  the  choir  broke  forth  with  their  "lauds" — reiter- 

339 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

ated  and  monotonous  chants  to  Christ,  angels,  apos- 
tles, martyrs,  and  virgins,  to  grant  the  new  Augustus 
the  aid  of  Heaven  to  support  him  against  all  his  foes. 

"An  impudent  travesty  of  the  secular  ceremonies 
at  the  crowning  of  our  Basileus,  I  say,"  Michael,  the 
diplomatist,  broke  out,  as  the  great  crowd  followed  the 
imperial  cortege  into  the  atrium.  "  They  copy  our  very 
phrases  and  words,  as  if  that  could  make  a  barbarian 
king  a  Roman  Augustus." 

"The  Saxon  savage  seems  to  fancy  himself  another 
Carolus,  who,  indeed,  was  a  hero  and  a  Caesar.  He,  at 
any  rate,  felt  some  awe  of  the  empire,  and  sought  to 
be  a  good  friend  to  our  Basileus  and  his  empire,"  said 
Joannes,  the  geometer,  who  knew  history  as  well  as 
science. 

"  Nay,"  said  Michael,  "Charles  once  talked  of  marry- 
ing his  eldest  daughter,  Erythro,  to  our  Basileus  Con- 
stantine,  and  Irene,  the  Basilissa,  sent  over  the  court 
eunuch,  Elisha,  to  instruct  the  baby  Augusta  in  our 
language,  literature,  and  deportment." 

"Did  not  the  pretender  Charles,  even  after  his 
mock  coronation  in  the  Vatican,  actually  propose  to 
marry  the  Basilissa  Irene  himself?"  said  Joannes. 

"  Would  that  they  would  ask  for  a  tutor,  a  professor, 
or  a  silentiary,  eunuch  or  not,  to  come  over  and  teach 
them  a  little  of  art,  letters,  and  courtesy,"  said  Alexios. 

"Ah!"  said  Symeon,  "if  only  that  blessed  alliance 
between  the  Basileus  of  our  house  and  a  Basilissa  of 
theirs,  between  a  Saxon  king  and  an  imperial  princess, 
could  be  brought  about,  what  tidings  of  great  joy  would 
it  not  bring! — peace  on  earth  and  good-will  among 
men.  The  revered  churches  of  Christ  would  come  to- 
gether again  as  one.     The  Catholic  and  the  Orthodox 

39° 


Old   Rome 

faith  could  then  unite  to  make  Christ  and  His  Cross 
prevail  over  the  Hagarene,  and  convert  the  pagans  of 
the  North  and  the  East!" 

The  idea  of  some  conciliation — at  least  some  modus 
vivendi — between  the  rival  claimants  to  the  Roman 
empire  had  long  floated  in  the  mind  of  the  politic 
spirits  of  the  age,  and  it  occupied  especially  the  designs 
of  that  far-seeing  statesman  Otto  himself.  The  corona- 
tion of  his  son  and  heir  brought  the  problem  to  an 
acute  stage.  The  following  day  the  emperor  held  a 
long  and  secret  council  in  the  Vatican  palace  in  which 
he  was  installed.  The  monarch  was  now  in  his  fifty- 
sixth  year,  his  powerful  form  giving  signs  of  his  long 
career  of  toil  and  of  battle;  his  fair  hair  was  grizzled 
with  years,  and  his  majestic  countenance  deeply  fur- 
rowed with  thought  and  care.  He  sat  on  a  dais  with 
his  loved  queen  by  his  side,  and  the  young  Otto,  now 
imperial  crown -prince,  between  them.  The  lad  was 
auburn-haired,  very  fair,  bright,  delicate,  and  small 
even  for  his  years.  He  looked  but  a  puny  successor 
for  the  mighty  ruler  of  the  West. 

Otto  had  called  to  his  council  his  very  politic  father, 
the  pope,  and  his  trusty  delegate,  the  wily  Bishop  of 
Verona.  Pandulph,  Count  of  Capua,  was  there,  and 
beside  him  the  stout  old  chief,  Duke  Burckhard  of 
Swabia.  One  or  two  Italian  counts  and  prelates  held  a 
lower  place  at  the  board,  and  among  them  had  been 
admitted  a  young  Cluniac  monk  whose  learning,  ex- 
perience, and  acuteness  had  already  recommended 
him  to  the  pope  and  to  the  emperor.  He  was  Ger- 
bert  of  Aurillac,  who  was  yet  but  twenty-seven,  but 
his  studies  in  the  schools  of  Cordova,  his  lofty  char- 
acter and  profound  sagacity,  had  made  him  already 
26  391 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

a  man  of  'mark.  And  we  know  that  he 'was  destined, 
under  the  name  of  Silvester  II.,  to  prove  himself  to  be 
one  of  the  greatest  of  the  popes  and  the  most  politic 
brain  in  Europe. 

The  emperor  opened  the  council  thus:  "  Holy  father, 
right  reverend  prelates,  noble  counts,  we  have  called 
you  to  this  council  to  make  known  our  will  and  to 
consult  you  on  the  means  of  compassing  it.  In  the 
thirty  years  since  we  have  worn  the  crown  of  our 
father,  King  Henry,  we  have  welded  into  a  single  realm 
the  German  and  Italian  lands,  and  in  these  later  years 
we  have  restored  the  empire  of  our  glorious  predeces- 
sor, Charles,  and  revived  the  dignity  of  the  Roman 
name.  The  holy  father  has  now  conferred  the  im- 
perial title  on  our  son,  who  in  due  time  will  have  to 
maintain  our  office  in  this  holy  Roman  empire.  It  is 
true  that  your  Otto  is  King  of  all  German  lands,  of 
Burgundy,  Bohemia,  Poland,  Suzerain  of  Denmark  and 
of  Hungary.  We  are  King  of  Italy,  and  Roman  Im- 
perator  Augustus ;  but  our  rule  does  not  extend,  in  fact, 
to  the  south  of  Italy,  over  Apulia  and  Calabria.  Those 
fair  lands  and  ancient  cities  are  still  held  by  him  who 
claims  the  imperial  name,  who  rejects  our  right  to  use 
it,  by  that  sovereign  of  the  Greeks  who  are  schismatics 
from  the  Holy  Catholic  Church,  who  deny  to  our  holy 
father  the  title  of  Vicar  of  Christ  on  earth,  as  they 
deny  us  the  right  to  call  ourselves  the  representative 
of  God  here  on  earth.  And  beyond  the  southern 
limits  of  Italy  lies  that  fair  and  rich  island  of  Sicily, 
once  a  bright  province  of  the  Roman  empire,  but  now 
enslaved  by  the  Saracens  and  Moors  of  Africa,  who 
cruelly  ill-use  the  servants  of  Christ.  It  little  boots 
if  we  rule  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Bay  of  Naples,  from 

392 


Old  Rome 

the  Rhine  and  the  Rhone  to  the  Danube,  if  South  Italy 
be  not  ours,  if  Sicily  follow  the  False  Prophet,  and  if  the 
Greek  who  still  calls  himself  Roman  emperor  reign 
within  two  days'  march  of  Rome.  Be  it  by  arms  or 
be  it  by  policy,  we  are  bent  on  transmitting  to  our 
heir  all  Italy  as  his  kingdom,  and  the  acknowledged 
title  of  sole  Imperator  Augustus.  Right  reverend  and 
most  noble  councillors,  shall  this  be  done  by  policy  or 
by  arms?" 

A  long  silence  ensued,  for  none  knew  to  which  course 
the  emperor  inclined,  and  they  hesitated  to  thwart  his 
purpose.  Otto  looked  round  and  scanned  the  faces 
of  the  councillors. 

"  My  Lord  of  Capua  and  Beneventum,"  he  said,  "you 
look  like  a  man  who  knows  his  own  mind,  and  your 
fiefs  lie  next  to  those  of  the  Greek.  What  says  the 
Count  Pandulph?" 

"My  liege,"  blurted  forth  the  impetuous  "Iron 
Head,"  "my  voice  is  for  war — open,  sudden,  and  to  the 
knife.  These  Greeks  are  crafty  as  foxes  and  coward- 
ly as  sheep.  Hold  no  parley  with  them.  Give  me 
the  order  to  march  and  twenty  thousand  lances,  and 
we  will  sweep  them  away  to  the  Bay  of  Tarentum  and 
the  Strait  of  Messina." 

"  How  say  you,  my  lord  bishop,  you  who  speak  their 
tongue  and  have  seen  so  much  of  their  capital  and 
court?"  said  Otto  to  Luitprand. 

"My  liege,  as  a  civilian  and  a  churchman,  I  am  dis- 
posed to  prefer  the  ways  of  peace  and  of  policy.  The 
brave  Count  of  Capua  would  prove  his  valor  against 
every  enemy  of  your  Imperial  Majesty;  but  the  Lom- 
bard and  the  Calabrian  themes  of  the  Basileus  are 
countries  most  difficult  to  invade  or  to  conquer.    They 

393 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century- 
abound  in  mountains,  defiles,  and  torrents;  they  are 
defended  by  strong  forts  securely  placed  on  rocks  or 
on  bays  of  the  sea;  what  is  worse  is  their  fever-breed- 
ing plains,  which  are  certain  death  to  the  gallant  sol- 
diers of  the  North.  That  which  is  even  more  impor- 
tant is  this:  the  Byzantine  fleet  dominates  the  sea; 
the  immense  coast  line  is  at  its  mercy ;  they  can  pour 
in  endless  supplies,  provisions,  arms,  and  succor.  My 
liege,  I  advise  an  embassy  to  Byzantium.  Seek  for 
your  son  a  daughter  of  their  ruling  house,  and  let 
the  dowry  of  the  Greek  princess  be  stipulated  to  be 
the  lands  they  unjustly  withhold  from  the  King  of 
Italy,  the  Roman  emperor." 

"Can  you  induce  their  Basileus  to  yield  so  much?" 
asked  Otto,  with  a  smile.  "We  fear  they  hold  them- 
selves to  be  at  least  our  equals  in  place." 

"The  fierce  Armenian  soldier  who  has  married  the 
widow  of  his  Basileus  is  proud  enough,  self-willed 
enough,  and  filled  with  the  ambition  of  a  rebel  angel. 
But  they  tell  me  he  is  losing  favor  both  with  Church 
and  with  people.  He  is  beset  on  the  north  and  on 
the  east.  Nicephorus  is  at  death  grapple  with  the 
caliph  in  Asia;  he  is  menaced  by  Bulgarians  and  by 
Russians;  he  has  enemies  and  traitors  in  his  capital 
and  his  very  palace.  His  people  long  for  peace.  They 
are  very  rich,  very  politic,  and  careless  of  the  honor 
of  their  name.  If  well  plied  with  persuasive  words, 
they  will  yield.  Demand  the  hand  of  Theophano,  the 
daughter  of  Romanus,  with  the  Italian  themes  as  her 
dowry.  The  empire  will  regain  two  noble  prov- 
inces, our  imperial  prince  will  gain  a  lovely  bride, 
and  the  grandson  of  your  Majesties,  a  third  Otto 
that  is  to  be,  will   wear   the    crown    of   a   sole   and 

394 


Old  Rome 

undivided  empire,  without  a  rival  and  without  an 
enemy." 

"You  look  gloomy,  most  noble  duke,"  said  the  em- 
peror, as  he  turned  with  a  keen  eye  to  Burckhard  at 
his  side.  "  Does  this  splendid  prospect  of  our  sagacious 
bishop  not  approve  itself  to  your  valor?" 

"My  liege,"  said  the  duke,  stoutly,  his  huge  limbs 
writhing  with  suppressed  excitement,  "your  grace  is 
a  German  king;  I  am  a  German  duke.  Your  realm, 
north  of  the  Alps,  is  of  vast  extent,  and  in  perpetual 
peril  of  enemies,  traitors,  and  conspiracies.  Half  of 
it  lias  only  been  won  or  pacified  by  your  own  invin- 
cible arm  and  your  unsleeping  wisdom.  Danes,  Poles, 
Slavs,  Hungarians,  and  Franks  are  not  finally  crush- 
ed. They  may  pour  in  again.  Not  while  you  live, 
my  honored  chief.  But  will  this  fair  boy  by  your  side 
wield  the  mighty  sword  of  his  father?  Will  an  un- 
born Otto  be  able  to  control  the  brave,  free,  aspiring 
races  of  our  fatherland?  Will  younger  Ottos  curb 
the  restless  mob  of  Rome  and  the  craft  of  these  Italian 
barons  ?  My  king,  return  to  your  German  kingdom, 
and  make  that  secure  for  your  house  and  your  people. 
Let  not  the  house  of  Henry  the  Saxon  be  drowned  in 
these  Italian  lagoons,  and  the  blood  of  Saxon  warriors 
drench  the  pestilential  plains  of  Italy.  They  are  brave 
as  men  can  be,  but  they  are  not  proof  against  the  fevers 
and  the  wiles — and  the  harlots — of  this  land  of  sin,  of 
poison,  and  of  ruin." 

"The  holy  father  will  not  admit  this  apocalyptic 
picture  of  the  Eternal  City,"  said  Otto,  with  a  lofty 
smile;  "and  you  forget,  most  noble  duke,  that  we  are 
the  Roman  emperor,  crowned  of  God  by  his  holiness 
here.     We  together  are  charged  by  Christ,  the  Son, 

395 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

with  the  care  of  the  Church  Catholic  and  this  holy 
empire,  of  which  Italy  is  the  oldest  and  fairest  part.' 
What  says  his  holiness?"  the  emperor  asked,  calmly 
restraining  the  storm  rising  between  his  Teuton  and 
his  Latin  concillors. 

"Our  advice  will  be  given  in  the  private  ear  of  your 
Imperial  Majesty,  as  is  most  meet  for  the  servant  of 
the  servants  of  Christ.  But  I  will  ask  you  now  to  lis- 
ten to  my  young  friend  here,  this  learned  brother,  who 
has  seen  so  much  of  the  courts  of  Spain,  Gaul,  and 
Italy,  whose  observations  may  be  useful  to  your 
grace." 

Otto  assented  with  a  gracious  smile,  and  the  young 
monk  Gerbert  stepped  forward  at  the  summons,  his 
keen  face  lighted  up  with  genius  and  the  play  of  Gallic 
eloquence  dancing  in  his  mobile  lips. 

"If  I  presume  to  speak  in  this  august  presence  and 
in  so  eminent  a  council,  it  is  only  that  I  have  lived  in 
the  lands  of  the  Franks  and  in  that  of  the  caliph  of 
Spain  and  have  some  knowledge  of  the  powers  that 
lie  to  the  west  of  the  empire  and  of  this  Italian  king- 
dom. The  wealth,  the  power,  the  science,  and  the  arts 
possessed  by  the  people  who  obey  the  Ommayad  caliph 
at  Cordova  are  incredible — not  easily  to  be  conceived 
by  those  who  have  not  witnessed  them.  The  so-called 
Fatimite  caliph  of  Africa  has  power  and  resources 
equally  great.  It  is  he  who  holds  in  his  grasp  the 
rich  island  of  Sicily.  In  Asia  the  children  of  the  False 
Prophet  have  been  gaining  for  generations  on  the  peo- 
ple of  Christ.  To  the  north  and  to  the  east  of  the 
German  realm  there  lie  Poles,  Hungarians,  Russians, 
and  Slavonians,  who  are  hardly  within  the  fold  of  the 
Church,  who   care   little   for   our  sovereign  lord,  the 

396 


Old   Rome 

emperor,  and  even  less  for  our  holy  father,  the  pope 
of  Rome.  It  will  be  a  tremendous  task  to  make  them 
Catholic  and  Romans.  If  all  this  be  so,  the  union  of 
all  Christian  princes  and  of  all  Christian  churches  is 
the  one  thing  urgent  and  necessary.  Let  us  pray  for 
the  day  when  all  Christian  rulers  and  all  Christian  men 
may  go  forth  in  a  holy  war  against  the  unbelievers,  to 
rescue  the  tomb  of  Christ  and  of  His  blessed  Mother, 
of  the  apostles  and  saints,  and  to  preserve  the  people 
of  our  Lord  from  the  blasphemies  of  Mohammed.  It 
will  soon  need  all  the  combined  strength  of  Christen- 
dom to  protect  the  Church  of  Christ.  That  will  be  a 
most  terrible  day  when  Christian  princes  and  Christian 
churches  are  in  death-grip  with  each  other.  Would 
that  our  sovereign  lord,  the  emperor,  could  make 
some  alliance  with  those  who  rule  in  Byzantium!  Oh, 
that  old  Rome  could  be  led  to  stretch  forth  the  hand 
of  brotherly  communion  to  new  Rome !  Oh ,  that  one 
day  all  those  who  claim  the  inheritance  of  Constantine 
might  do  homage  to  an  imperial  descendant  of  our 
lord  the  emperor." 

"May  I  speak,  since  this  matter  of  state  seems  to 
touch  so  closely  myself?"  said  the  imperial  youth, 
with  his  sweet  smile  and  bright  look  to  his  father.  "  I 
long  for  such  a  bride  as  the  bishop  describes  the  prin- 
cess— 'lovely,  graceful,  brilliant,  with  all  the  charm  of 
that  polished  court  and  all  the  genius  of  old  Greece. 
Her  mother  came,  they  say,  from  Lacedsemon,  and 
drew  her  race  from  the  hero  kings  of  Sparta,  of  whom 
I  have  read  with  my  tutor  in  old  Plutarch." 

"His  imperial  highness  speaks  the  truth  with  his 
usual  discernment,"  fawned  the  courtly  bishop;  "they 
who  have  not  seen  Byzantium  cannot  imagine  its  splen- 

397 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

dor  and  the  majesty  of  its  state.  An  alliance  with  the 
daughter  of  Romanus,  the  Basileus,  granddaughter 
of  the  eighth  Constantine  Born-in-the-Purple,  as  they 
boast  so  often,  would  give  fresh  glory  even  to  the  son 
of  Otto,  to  the  grandson  of  Henry.  The  empire  of 
the  mighty  Charles  has  been  sundered  for  a  hundred 
years.  If  it  were  merged  by  marriage  in  the  race  of 
Constantine,  it  would  shine  forth  again  like  the  sun  risen 
after  a  gloomy  night." 

"What  says  our  empress?"  asked  Otto.  "For  this 
touches  her  deeply,  too,  and  must  move  a  mother's 
heart." 

"My  lord,"  said  Adelheida,  still  beautiful,  thought- 
ful, and  loving,  devoted  to  the  hero  of  her  young 
dreams,  "a  Greek  princess,  graceful,  accomplished, 
and  intelligent,  would  add  fresh  lustre  and  culture 
even  to  your  throne,  mighty  as  it  is." 

"  But  will  our  advances  be  well  received  by  him  who 
occupies  the  golden  palace  of  Justinian?"  said  Otto. 

"Nicephorus  Phocas,"  said  the  bishop,  positively, 
"is  between  the  devil  and  the  deep  sea,  as  our  Lom- 
bard proverb  runs;  he  has  no  choice.  He  will  grasp 
your  offer.  He  has  restless  Bulgarians  on  his  north- 
ern border  and  fierce  Saracens  on  his  eastern  frontier. 
Byzantine  churchmen  and  officials  now  in  Rome  here 
tell  me  that  the  people  and  the  Church  are  weary  of 
him.  The  army  has  a  new  favorite.  The  widow  whom 
he  married  cares  for  him  no  more.  Nicephorus  will 
yield,  if  he  be  pressed  by  an  envoy  of  superior  culture, 
who  knows  how  to  handle  an  uncouth  soldier." 

"We  will  consider  of  this  embassy  and  project  of 
alliance,"  said  Otto  as  he  broke  up  the  council.  "  Moth- 
er and  son,  churchmen  and  civilians,   are  for  peace, 


Old  Rome 

love,  and  friendship.  My  lord  of  the  Iron  Head  and 
of  the  Iron  Hand,  with  his  gallant  men-at-arms,  is  all 
for  war.  It  may  not  be  impossible  to  try  them  both, 
and  see  which  of  the  two  our  friend  the  Basileus  prefers. 
My  lords  and  reverend  sirs,  we  thank  you." 


XXVII 
Old  Rome  and  New  Rome — Rivals  in  Empire 

THE  mighty  Otto,  after  long  consideration  of  the 
two  plans  proposed  in  council,  committed  the  fatal 
error  of  alternately  resorting  to  both,  and,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  long  and  splendid  career,  met  with  morti- 
fying rebuffs  in  negotiation  as  in  war.  Adopting  at 
first  the  advice  of  the  politic  bishop,  the  emperor  ad- 
vanced to  Naples  and  there  received  the  envoys  of 
Nicephorus  in  state.  The  Basileus,  who  sought  only 
to  gain  time  while  he  poured  reinforcements  and  stores 
into  his  stronghold  of  Bari,  lured  on  the  Germans 
with  hopes  of  obtaining  the  hand  of  the  princess  and 
the  Italian  themes  as  her  dower.  In  the  mean  time 
he  doubled  the  defences  of  Bari  and  despatched  his 
trusty  lord  warden  to  take  command  of  the  provinces 
in  Italy  and  to  defend  them  to  the  last  drop  of  his 
blood. 

Otto,  at  last,  finding  himself  baffled  with  hollow 
promises,  listened  to  the  advice  of  Count  Pandulph 
of  the  Iron  Head  and  of  Count  Gisulph  of  Salerno,  and, 
securing  his  rear  at  Beneventum,  he  suddenly,  with- 
out warning,  dashed  down  upon  Bari  with  a  picked 
body  of  his  Lombardic  and  German  veterans.  In  his 
thirty  years  of  reign  Otto  had  swept  his  enemies  be- 
fore him  from  the  Baltic  to  the  Tiber,  and  he  looked 

400 


Old   Rome  and  New  Rome — Rivals  in   Empire 

for  an  easy  victory  in  the  Lombard  theme.  He  had 
made  the  expedition  an  imperial  progress,  with  the 
empress  and  their  son  in  his  camp,  and  the  flower  of 
his  Saxon,  Swabian,  and  Italian  troops.  But  he  was 
too  late.  The  gallant  warden  had  provided  at  every 
point  for  a  desperate  defence.  The  fortifications  of 
Bari  stretched  from  sea  to  sea.  A  powerful  fleet  se- 
cured the  coast  and  poured  in  provisions  and  arms; 
and  the  population,  bound  by  long  tradition  and  com- 
mercial interest  in  loyalty  to  the  Byzantine  empire, 
served  with  zeal  in  the  defence  of  their  city.  To  the 
summons  of  the  Saxon  to  surrender  the  fort,  Basil 
Digenes  returned  as  proud  a  defiance.  Otto  had  dash- 
ed upon  it  without  the  means  of  a  regular  siege,  at 
the  instance  of  Count  Pandulph  the  Iron  Head  and  his 
brother  Landulph,  who  intended  to  make  it  their  own. 
After  weeks  of  bootless  attacks,  which  the  lord  war- 
den repelled  at  every  point,  the  emperor  retired  in 
disgust  and  flung  himself  into  the  arms  of  the  wily 
bishop,  whom  he  sent  on  a  new  embassy  to  Byzantium. 
It  was  a  lowering  day  of  June,  968,  when  the  learned 
and  eminent  Bishop  of  Cremona  found  himself  at  the 
Golden  Gate  of  the  fortifications  of  Constantinople, 
as  the  ambassador  plenipotentiary  of  the  Augustus, 
crowned  of  God,  the  Emperor  Otto.  The  suite  of  his 
eminence  consisted  of  secretaries,  chamberlains,  and 
attendants,  and  a  select  band  of  men-at-arms,  gigantic 
swashbucklers  from  Pomerania,  "bravos"  in  reality, 
who  were  familiarly  known  as  the  "lions."  The  party 
were  mounted  on  their  own  horses,  and  ceremoniously 
challenged  the  guard  to  open  the  Golden  Gate  to  the 
representative  of  his  Imperial  Majesty.  But  no  gate 
was  opened.     The  sky  was  now  overcast  and  the  rain 

401 


Theophano:   The   Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

descended  in  torrents,  but  it  did  not  cool  the  wrath  of 
the  pompous  bishop  and  his  people.  Hour  after  hour 
they  waited  in  the  storm,  in  spite  of  all  their  appeals 
and  demands,  the  bishop  pouring  out  Ciceronian  phi- 
lippics at  the  barbarism  of  his  hosts,  and  his  officials 
importuning  the  stolid  guard  of  the  gate  with  remon- 
strances that  were  neither  understood  nor  answered. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  silentiary  Symmachos 
arrived,  with  a  military  escort;  the  gates  were  opened, 
but,  with  positive  asseverations  that  no  foreign  person 
could  be  suffered  to  ride  through  the  streets  of  the 
"city  guarded  by  God,"  the  bishop  and  his  party 
were  forced  to  dismount,  and  were  taken  on  foot 
through  gaping  crowds  and  muddy  and  unsavory  lanes 
to  their  lodging  in  a  remote  corner  of  the  city  near 
Blachernae.  The  residence  assigned  to  the  mission  was 
an  empty  palace  of  marble,  which  the  irate  bishop 
discovered  to  be  cheerless,  dilapidated,  and  comfort- 
less, letting  in  rain  and  open  to  the  wind.  The  wrath 
of  the  courtly  prelate,  his  disappointment  and  vexa- 
tion, could  not  be  publicly  expressed;  but  he  vented 
his  spleen  in  the  turgid  Ciceronian  epithets  scattered 
throughout  the  flowery  despatch  which  he  now  ad- 
dressed to  his  "August  and  invincible  emperors  of 
the  Romans,  the  Ottos,  and  the  most  glorious  and 
august  Empress  Adelheida — "  a  record  which,  with 
all  its  exaggeration,  pomposity,  and  caricature,  is  one 
of  the  most  precious  documents  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Two  days  of  delay  passed  in  which  the  bishop  fumed 
and  inveighed  against  "the  Greeks  "  and  all  their  tribe, 
pouring  anathemas  on  the  building,  the  food,  the  wine, 
and  the  accommodation;  on  Michael,  the  Sicilian, 
who  was  appointed  their  caterer  and  "steward  of  the 

402 


Old   Rome   and   New  Rome — Rivals  in   Empire 

palace."  His  eminence  now  found  that  he  was  prac- 
tically a  prisoner,  and  guarded  by  uncouth  Russian  sen- 
tinels who  neither  understood  his  language  nor  suffered 
his  attendants  to  pass  or  communicate  outside.  At 
last  he  received  an  official  summons  from  Leo,  the 
brother  of  Nicephorus,  and  curopalates,  who  desired 
to  regulate  the  ceremonial  of  the  reception  by  the  Basil- 
eus.  Again  the  portly  prelate  had  to  wade  through 
mud  and  rain  on  foot;  he  arrived  breathless  and  in  a 
bad  temper,  and  bustled  into  the  chamber  of  the  royal 
palace,  proud  of  his  mastery  of  the  Greek  language, 
and  bearing  the  missive  that  contained  his  credentials 
from  his  sovereign.  Luitprand  began  a  speech  that 
he  had  prepared  in  Demosthenic  style,  wherein  he 
called  himself  the  envoy  of  "the  august  Basileus  of 
the  Romans."  But  here  Leo  peremptorily  interrupted 
him,  and  said,  "There  is  but  one  august  Basileus  of 
the  Romans  on  God's  earth,  and  he  resides  in  this 
sacred  palace.  Your  master,  we  understand,  is  king 
of  several  tribes  of  the  west,  and  we  could  not  recog- 
nize his  envoy  under  any  other  style." 

"But  my  lord,  who  of  old  was  crowned  king  both 
in  Germany  and  in  Italy,  was  lately  anointed  Impera- 
tor  Augustus,  which  in  your  tongue  is  Basileus,  by  the 
holy  father  himself,  in  the  Church  of  the  Apostle 
Peter  in  Rome,  and  that  with  the  assent  of  the  prel- 
ates, barons,  and  people  of  Rome.  Augustus,  Trajan, 
and  Constantine  had  no  more  solemn  investiture  of 
that  holy  and  sublime  office." 

"What !  do  you  venture  to  call  that  a  legitimate  con- 
secration which  was  attempted  by  the  infamous  trai- 
tor, John  XII.  ?"  asked  Leo,  bluntly.  "  We  heard  that 
your  king  deposed  the  apostate  priest  who  officiated 

403 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

at  his  coronation   and  crucified   the  populace  which 
shouted  at  his  installation." 

"My  lord  the  emperor  has  indeed  had  occasion  to 
purge  the  prelacy  and  the  mob  of  the  Eternal  City, 
and  there  can  be  no  better  proof  of  his  imperial  au- 
thority and  his  unquestioned  title  to  rule,"  said  the 
bishop,  stoutly. 

"The  pretension  to  assume  the  title  of  emperor  of 
the  Romans  was  an  attack  on  the  prerogative  of  the 
imperial  successor  of  Constantine  the  Great,"  said 
Leo,  positively.  "And  you,  my  lord,  cannot  be  ad- 
mitted to  an  audience  if  you  persist  in  claiming  for 
your  master  the  title  of  Basileus." 

"But  Basileus  is  Greek  for  king  —  is  it  not?"  the 
bishop  rejoined. 

"No,"  said  Leo;    "the  Greek  word  for  king  is  prjt,." 

"That  is  Latin — rex — not  Greek,"  cried  out  the 
learned  and  pertinacious  bishop. 

"  It  seems  that  you  have  come  here,  my  lord  bishop, 
to  quarrel  and  to  insult  us,  and  not  to  make  peace," 
said  Leo,  determined  to  close  the  interview. 

Seeing  no  chance  of  pressing  his  point,  the  prelate 
advanced  to  hand  his  diploma  to  the  curopalates,  in 
order  to  be  laid  before  the  emperor  himself;  but 
Leo,  with  an  air  of  sovereign  disdain,  declined  to  han- 
dle the  missive,  which  he  waved  to  the  grand  inter- 
preter to  take  into  his  charge.  He  abruptly  closed 
the  interview,  and  the  silentiary  conducted  the  dis- 
concerted envoy  to  his  own  abode,  muttering  his 
indignation,  with  tags  from  Cicero,  Vergil,  and  the 
Bible. 

"The  tall  man  thinks  himself  a  master  of  the  cere- 
monies," said  the  bishop  to  his  secretaries,  "but  he  is 

404 


Old   Rome  and   New  Rome — Rivals  in   Empire 

a  broken  reed,  like  Pharaoh  of  Egypt,  as  the  prophet 
says,  whereon,  if  a  man  lean,  it  will  pierce  his  hand." 

The  very  next  day  was  Whitsunday;  the  bishop 
received  the  summons  to  attend  the  audience  of  the 
emperor  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  At  six  he 
began  his  weary  tramp  on  foot  from  the  northern 
end  of  the  city,  and  after  some  delay  was  ushered  into 
tne  magnificent  Hall  of  the  Nineteen  Couches.  There 
Nicephorus,  in  state  robes  (which  the  irritable  bishop 
declares  were  old  and  ill-fitting),  sat  on  the  throne  of 
Solomon,  with  the  golden  lions  on  the  steps,  the  young 
Basilei  sitting  on  stools  behind  his  left  hand.  The 
ambassador  of  Otto,  remembering  the  courtly  mag- 
nificence of  Constantine,  had  expected  a  royal  wel- 
come. His  wrath  was  great  when  Nicephorus,  with  a 
stern  look,  and  not  rising  from  his  throne,  motioned 
to  the  envoy  to  approach  the  foot  of  the  dais  and  pros- 
trate himself.  The  Rasileus,  deeply  resenting  as  an 
insult  the  claim  of  the  German  king  to  usurp  his  title, 
and  boiling  with  indignation  at  the  outrage  of  Otto's 
treacherous  attack  on  the  Italian  provinces,  began  in 
this  fierce  tone: 

"  It  would  have  been  our  right — indeed,  our  pleasure 
— could  we  have  been  able  to  receive  your  embassy 
with  the  amity  and  the  magnificence  this  court  shows 
to  all  friendly  powers.  The  disloyal  conduct  of  your 
master  has  made  that  impossible.  He  has  taken  up  a 
hostile  attitude  and  has  invaded  our  city  of  Rome, 
which  he  claims  as  his  own.  He  has  put  to  death 
our  friend,  King  Berengar,  and  his  son  Adelbert,  in 
defiance  of  law  and  of  right.  He  has  slain  many  of 
our  Roman  subjects  by  the  sword  or  by  the  halter; 
he  has  put  out  the  eyes  of  others,  and  driven  some  into 

4°S 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

exile.  He  has  attacked  cities  of  our  empire  with  fire 
and  sword,  and  seeks  by  force  to  annex  them  to  his 
kingdom.  And  now,  when  he  finds  himself  baffled 
in  his  treacherous  attempts,  he  affects  to  be  a  peaceful 
friend,  and  he  sends  you — you,  the  counsellor  and  the 
contriver  of  these  misdeeds — to  come  to  our  court  to 
act  as  spy  rather  than  ambassador." 

The  stout  bishop,  full  of  pride  in  his  sovereign,  the 
great  Otto,  and  in  the  Holy  Catholic  Church,  of  both 
of  which  he  was  now  the  mouth-piece,  was  not  the  man 
to  be  cowed  by  such  a  fierce  diatribe  from  the  "  Basil- 
eus  of  the  Greeks";  and  he  boldly  retorted  in  kind, 
though  much  of  the  Ciceronian  rhetoric  he  poured  into 
his  famous  despatch  was  spoken  in  Italian,  aside  to 
his  secretary,  or  was  polished  at  leisure  m  his  closet  at 
home. 

"  When  my  master  invaded  the  city  of  Rome  it  was 
not  as  a  usurper  nor  as  a  tyrant,  but  to  deliver  the 
city  from  a  tyrant,  or  rather  from  a  gang  of  tyrants. 
Rome  was  in  the  hands  of  debauchees — nay,  of  harlots. 
Surely  your  mightiness  slumbered  —  or  rather  your 
predecessors  in  title.  If  they  were  in  fact,  and  not 
only  in  name,  Roman  emperors,  would  they  have 
left  Rome  a  prey  to  abandoned  women  ?  This  court 
has  never  hesitated  to  depose,  to  oppress  the  holy 
fathers  in  times  gone  by,  till  they  have  been  without 
means  to  carry  on  their  office.  As  to  Prince  Adelbert, 
he  insulted  your  predecessors  on  the  throne;  he  de- 
spoiled the  Church  of  the  Holy  Apostles.  My  lord 
came  down  across  the  Alps  aad  drove  out  the  traitors 
and  the  criminals,  doing  justice  on  rebels,  as  the 
Roman  emperors  of  old  ordained.  As  to  Berengar 
and  his  son  Adelbert,  they  first  made  themselves  liege- 

406 


Old   Rome  and   New  Rome — Rivals  in   Empire 

men  of  my  own  lord,  and  received  from  him  the  golden 
sceptre  of  the  kingdom  of  Italy.  Then  they  turned 
traitors  and  rebelled  against  him.  They  were  driven 
out — but  they  are  not  dead.  Your  majesty  is  wont 
to  treat  rebellion  in  very  much  such  fashion,  I  trow." 

"The  champion  of  Adelbert  tells  us  a  very  different 
tale,"  interposed  Nicephorus. 

"Let  that  be  decided  by  single  combat  in  arms," 
broke  out  the  bishop,  warmly.  "Any  one  of  my 
men-at-arms  shall  to-morrow,  if  you  give  us  the  lists, 
prove  him  on  his  body  to  be  a  false  traitor." 

"  Enough,"  said  Nicephorus,  sternly.  "Assume  that 
Adelbert  turned  traitor.  Now  answer  me  this:  Why 
did  your  master  break  into  our  land  with  fire  and 
sword?  We  were  on  friendly  terms,  and  were  con- 
templating a  perpetual  alliance  and  union  by  marriage." 

"We  hold,  sire,"  said  Luitprand,  proudly,  "that 
the  lands  claimed  as  Byzantine  themes  are  part  of  the 
Italian  kingdom — Italian  by  race,  custom,  and  tongue. 
They  were  held  of  old  by  Lombard  chiefs,  and  Louis, 
the  Frank  sovereign,  recovered  them  from  the  Sara- 
cens. It  was  only  by  arrangement  they  passed  to 
the  rulers  of  this  realm.  But  now  my  lord  and  master 
has  sent  me  to  effect  a  settlement  of  all  these  disputed 
questions  by  an  alliance  of  the  Princess  Theophano 
with  his  own  son  Otto,  on  the  terms  as  to  her  dowry 
which  I  am  commissioned  to  propose." 

"We  have  heard  enough  of  this,  and  must  adjourn 
the  audience,"  said  the  emperor,  abruptly.  "It  is 
past  eight  o'clock,  and  the  procession  of  this  holy 
festival  of  Pentecost  is  about  to  be  formed."  And 
Nicephorus  rose  and  had  himself  arrayed  in  solemn 
state. 

27  407 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

The  bishop  was  duly  escorted  into  the  tribune  of 
the  choir  singers,  and  relieved  his  spleen  by  writing 
for  his  imperial  sovereigns  a  grotesque  account  of  the 
ceremony.  On  his  return  he  found  things  rather  less 
acrimonious  at  court. 

Nicephorus  had  now  been  advised  by  Leo,  Basil 
the  chancellor,  and  other  councillors,  that  it  would 
be  unwise  to  reject  altogether  the  overtures  of  the 
mighty  emperor  in  the  west;  and  Basil  and  the  party 
of  the  empress  ardently  desired  the  proposed  alliance. 
This  Nicephorus  and  his  brother  could  not  brook  to 
accept,  but  they  were  persuaded  to  play  with  the  am- 
bassador of  the  Ottos,  at  least  while  the  great  cam- 
paign in  the  east  was  hardly  at  an  end.  Accordingly, 
Leo  was  instructed  to  invite  the  bishop  to  the  imperial 
banquet,  and  there  Nicephorus  treated  him,  not  so 
much  with  haughty  contempt  as  with  the  rough  hu- 
mor of  the  camp.  The  bishop,  to  his  disgust,  found 
himself  placed  low  at  the  royal  table,  and  surfeited 
with  the  unknown  dishes  —  the  oil,  the  caviare,  and 
sauces  of  the  banquet.  His  spleen  broke  forth  in  Cic- 
eronian epithets  about  the  food  and  the  resinous  wine, 
nor  was  he  concilated  by  the  rough  banter  of  the  em- 
peror himself.  The  bishop  was  heckled  as  to  the  ex- 
tent of  the  German  armies  and  territories,  and  he  at 
once  opened  a  high-flown  harangue  on  the  dominions 
of  his  master  and  the  prowess  of  his  soldiers. 

"Nonsense!"  cried  Nicephorus,  with  a  loud  laugh, 
for  he  was  resolved  to  flout  and  mock  the  Latin  phrase- 
monger; "they  tell  me  the  cavalry  are  but  poor  horse- 
men, and  the  footmen  are  so  overweighted  with  corse- 
lets, helmets,  long  swords,  and  big  shields  that  they 
have  no  mobility  in  action.     And  they  eat  and  drink 

408 


Old   Rome  and  New  Rome — Rivals  in   Empire 

too  much,  making  a  god  of  their  bellies,  though  per- 
haps their  drink  gives  them  pot  courage,  and  they  can 
do  nothing  when  rations  are  short."  And  Nicephorus, 
proud  of  his  Cossack  troopers  and  his  lithe,  mounted 
bowmen,  laughed  aloud  as  he  had  done  round  many  a 
camp-fire. 

"Then  mark  this,  my  lord  bishop,"  Nicephorus 
went  on,  returning  to  his  angry  tone:  "Your  master 
has  no  fleet.  Sea  power  is  ours.  We  make  war  by 
sea  as  well  as  by  land.  We  have  two  arms  with  which 
to  strike.  You  have  but  one.  If  we  go  to  war  with 
your  master  we  shall  destroy  his  seaboard  cities,  and 
reduce  to  ashes  all  that  we  can  reach  by  any  water- 
way. Did  we  not  drive  him  back  from  Bari?  He 
came  there  in  force — with  his  wife  and  his  son,  with 
his  Saxons,  Swabians,  Bavarians,  and  Italians.  All  of 
them  together  failed  to  capture  one  petty  town.  Do 
you  think  they  could  withstand  us,  whose  armies  are 
as  numberless  as  the  stars  in  heaven  or  the  waves  of 
the  sea?" 

The  indignant  bishop  tried  to  speak,  but  Nicephorus 
waved  him  to  his  seat.  "You  are  not  Romans  at  all; 
you  are  Lombards,"  he  shouted. 

But  this  was  more  than  the  Italian  could  endure. 
Nicephorus  raised  his  hand  to  bid  him  be  silent,  but 
he  broke  forth:  "Romulus,  who  killed  his  brother, 
and  who  was  born  in  adultery,  gave  his  name  to  the 
Romans.  Then  he  opened  an  asylum  to  which  homi- 
cides, debtors,  slaves,  and  felons  resorted,  and  so  he 
named  the  mongrel  crew  his  Romans.  That  was  the 
origin  of  those  whom  you  call  the  'masters  of  the 
world!'  We,  Lombards,  Saxons,  Swabians,  Franks, 
Lorrainers,  Bavarians,  and  Burgundians  call  a  man 

409 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

a  '  Roman '  when  we  want  to  give  him  an  opprobrious 
name.  We  mean  by  Roman  whatever  is  most  mean, 
cowardly,  greedy,  effeminate,  mendacious,  and  vicious. 
As  to  whether  we  know  how  to  fight  on  foot  or  on 
horse,  the  next  war  will  prove." 

This  insolent  philippic  of  the  wrathful  bishop  was 
blurted  out  in  incoherent  passion  amid  the  derisive 
murmurs  of  the  courtiers.  Nicephorus  did  not  listen 
to  his  sallies,  and  abruptly  rose  from  the  table,  order- 
ing the  officials  to  carry  the  ambassador  back  to  his 
lodging.  For  days  the  miserable  prelate  lay  there 
practically  in  prison,  neglected,  and  ill,  he  declares, 
from  the  poisonous  wine  and  the  pickled  sturgeon  he 
had  received.  His  piteous  appeal  to  the  curopalates 
only  gained  him  an  interview  with  the  prime-minister, 
Basil,  the  secretary  of  state,  and  the  prefect,  who 
told  him  that  the  only  terms  on  which  the  Sacred 
Palace  could  consent  to  giving  a  Basilian  princess 
born-in-the-purple  to  a  Teuton  prince  would  be  the 
cession  of  Ravenna,  Rome,  and  the  Italian  duchies  to 
their  lawful  sovereign.  King  Otto  might  have  peace 
if  he  resigned  Rome  and  all  imperial  pretensions. 

The  diplomacy  of  Byzantium — the  great  original  of 
which  that  of  the  Sublime  Porte  and  of  Holy  Russia 
have  been  but  feeble  imitations  —  was  employed  to 
play  with  the  wordy  prelate,  while  detaining  him 
practically  as  a  hostage  or  a  prisoner.  He  received  a 
series  of  affronts  and  rebuffs.  He  was  left  whole  days 
without  supplies;  he  was  made  to  give  precedence  to 
"barbarian  envoys  from  Bulgaria,  unkempt  creatures 
in  uncouth  dress,"  he  said.  Once  he  was  so  rude  that 
he  was  sent  to  dine  at  the  inn,  where  Nicephorus  in 
mockery  sent  him  from  his  own  table  "a  dish  of  kid 

410 


Old   Rome  and  New  Rome — Rivals  in  Empire 

stewed  in  pickled  fish  sauce,  garlic,  and  spices."  After 
months  of  endless  negotiations,  Luitprand  had  a  final 
audience  with  Nicephorus,  to  whom  he  was  forced  to 
prostrate  himself  beneath  the  imperial  feet.  "Take 
back  our  last  word  to  your  king,"  said  the  Basileus; 
"let  him  cease  to  usurp  our  style  and  infest  our  prov- 
inces, and  then  come  back  to  us  and  bring  us  a  favor- 
able answer." 

When  the  great  Saxon  emperor  learned  how  his 
embassy  had  been  treated,  and  received  the  vermilion 
and  golden-sealed  epistle  of  Nicephorus,  composed  in 
the  same  disdainful  tone,  he  again  invaded  Apulia 
and  assaulted  its  towns  and  castles.  The  Byzantines 
had  been  preparing  for  the  encounter  all  through  the 
time  of  the  bishop's  visit.  Basil  Digenes  was  in  com- 
mand of  the  forces,  and  he  flew  from  one  stronghold 
to  another,  providing  its  defences  and  animating 
the  troops.  Otto  made  no  real  way  beyond  laying 
waste  the  Greek  themes  and  plundering  the  unwalled 
towns.  At  last  the  fevers  of  plains  and  the  vigorous 
defence  of  the  castles  wore  out  the  strength  of  his 
German  veterans.  The  emperor  withdrew  to  the 
north,  leaving  the  Count  Pandulph  of  the  Iron  Head 
to  carry  on  the  campaign  at  the  head  of  his  Lombard 
and  Italian  force.  The  count  gained  some  successes 
and  laid  siege  to  Bovinum  in  the  Samnite  Mountains. 
Basil  Digenes  threw  himself  into  the  fort  and  com- 
manded a  sortie  upon  the  count's  own  camp.  There 
the  Iron  Head  met  the  lord  warden  in  single  combat, 
and  a  tremendous  duel  ensued.  The  count  was  dis- 
mounted and  the  scimitar  of  Basil  clove  his  helmet  at 
the  very  instant  that  the  huge  mace  of  Pandulph 
crashed  "into  the  brain  of  the  warden.     The  gigantic 

411 


Theophano:   The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Lord  of  Capua  was  taken  prisoner,  desperately  wound- 
ed, then  bound  in  chains  and  shipped  off  to  Byzan- 
tium, in  the  same  vessel  that  carried  back  the  lifeless 
body  of  his  antagonist.  Nicephorus  mourned  his  friend, 
comrade,  and  right  arm,  for  whom  he  was  wont  to  say 
ten  victories  over  the  Teuton  usurper  and  his  allies 
would  be  but  a  poor  compensation.  In  the  legends, 
romances,  and  ballads  of  Byzantine  glory,  the  memory 
of  Basil  Digenes  long  remained  as  the  type  of  chivalry 
and  knighthood.  And  the  Princess  Agatha  hid  her 
sorrow  for  her  betrothed  in  a  convent.  And  so,  after 
all  her  adventures,  her  hopes,  and  her  struggles,  she 
did  at  last  become  the  Bride  of  Christ. 


XXVIII 
Basileus  in  Council 

NICEPHORUS  was  seated  in  his  privy  cabinet  of 
the  palace  at  Constantinople  with  his  judges  and 
officers  of  the  law,  for  he  felt  the  internal  state  of  the 
empire  to  be  as  vital  as  was  the  defeat  of  its  enemies 
on  the  frontier.  He  was  in  council  with  Simon,  pa- 
trician and  chief  secretary  of  state,  Eustathius  Ro- 
manus,  another  patrician,  chief -justice,  and  two  pro- 
fessors from  the  Faculty  of  Law. 

"My  learned  lords,"  said  the  Basileus,  "I  hope  that 
we  may  now  finally  pass  the  new  law  that  we  have 
in  draft  on  'Gifts  to  monasteries,  hospitals,  and  in- 
firmaries in  the  Roman  empire.'  We  have  called  you 
to  advise  if  the  '  Novel,'  as  we  propose  to  issue  it,  will 
fully  carry  out  our  imperial  design.  We  find  the 
whole  realm  to  be  undermined  by  the  inordinate  ex- 
tent to  which  monastic  institutions  have  swollen. 
Multitudes  who  ought  to  serve  God  and  this  kingdom 
in  arms  and  in  useful  service  drone  away  their  lives 
in  monkish  indolence.  The  very  existence  of  this 
Christian  land  is  in  peril,  surrounded  as  it  is  by  ene- 
mies of  Christ,  Hagarenes,  heathens,  heretics,  and  bar- 
barians, while  day  by  day  our  people  crowd  into  the 
sloth  of  convents,  hermitages,  and  hospitals  for  old  and 
infirm.     And  the  wealth  that  should  go  into  the  ex- 

413 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

chequer  o'f  our  state  is  locked  up  in  these  unprofitable 
houses  of  refuge  for  the  cowards  and  the  idlers  of  our 
people.  My  lords,  I  am  resolved  to  mend  it — or  to 
end  it." 

"Sire,"  said  Lord  Simon,  the  secretary  of  state,  t 
"the  'Novel'  that  we  now  submit  to  your  imperial 
wisdom,  to  be  added  to  the  code  of  your  predecessors 
on  the  throne,  has  been  carefully  drafted  so  as  to  pro- 
hibit the  foundation  of  any  new  monastic  or  charitable 
corporation,  while  fully  guaranteeing  the  maintenance 
of  all  foundations  already  existing.  We  conceive  it 
to  be  no  part  of  the  purpose  of  your  Majesty  to  sup- 
press the  pious  foundations  of  the  past  or  to  confis- 
cate the  estates  which  have  been  dedicated  in  law  to 
any  religious  uses." 

"God  forbid  that  I  should  lay  sacrilegious  hands 
on  that  which  is  dedicated  to  God  and  to  the  saints. 
Would  that  I  could  recall  some  of  the  follies  and  the 
errors  of  past  years;  but  we  will  curb  this  disease  in 
the  future.  Monkery  is  becoming  the  dry-rot  of  our 
Rome.  Stout  fellows  who  should  bear  arms  in  the 
ranks  flock  into  these  refuges  for  the  ne'er-do-weels, 
and  half  the  land  of  our  empire  is  withdrawn  from  its 
due  cultivation  and  its  due  quota  of  taxation." 

"It  will  be  no  part  of  your  imperial  will  to  restrict 
the  alienation  in  mortmain  of  estates  for  the  support 
of  old-established  religious  houses?"  said  Simon,  the 
protosecretis. 

"This  must  be  strictly  limited  to  the  restoration  of 
houses  which  have  fallen  into  decay,"  replied  the 
Basileus. 

"And  will  this  apply  to  pious  gifts  to  the  use  of  bish- 
oprics and  metropolitan  sees?"  asked  the  chief -justice. 

414 


Basileus  in   Council 

"Assuredly,"  replied  Nicephorus,  with  decision; 
"there  are  already  too  many.  They  are  too  rich,  too 
luxurious,  and  too  useless.  Our  realm  gets  no  good 
from  them.  There  shall  be  no  more  founded  while  I 
bear  rule  in  Rome." 

"And  as  to  the  cells  and  hermitages  of  solitary  re- 
cluses, your  Majesty  will  not  interfere  with  them?" 
asked  Simon,  with  some  anxiety. 

"Not  with  true  and  genuine  cells,"  said  Nicephorus, 
somewhat  doubting,  "not  if  the  man  honestly  seeks  to 
live  a  godly  life  in  prayer — alone,  and  forever.  The 
prayers  of  such  avail  us  much.  The  blessed  Elijah 
went  into  the  wilderness,  and  when  he  lay  down  to 
die  under  a  juniper-tree  he  was  visited  by  an  angel 
and  was  fed  by  ravens.  And  so  John,  the  forerunner 
of  Christ,  went  into  the  wilderness,  and  his  meat  was 
locusts  and  wild  honey.  And  Christ  Himself  with- 
drew into  the  desert,  fasting  forty  days  and  forty 
nights.  Such  a  life  is  holy,  and  may  purge  the  dross 
out  of  our  people.  Would  that  I,  too,  myself  had 
been  suffered  to  end  my  days  in  such  wise.  No,  my 
lords,  we  approve  of  a  true  and  sincere  hermitage,  of 
these  cells  and  lauras,  as  they  name  them,  so  that  they 
be  solitary  and  in  desert  places,  in  rocks  and  moun- 
tains, far  from  men.  So  that  no  cell  be  set  up  anew 
on  habitable  and  cultivated  ground — this  we  sanction 
and  approve  with  our  imperial  blessing." 

And  now  Basil,  the  prime-minister,  craved  an  audi- 
ence, and  was  admitted  to  the  council. 

"Sire,"  he  began,  "we  shall  have  very  serious  op- 
position to  meet  from  the  churchmen,  especially  from 
the  regular  orders,  in  all  forms.  There  is  already  with- 
in the  palace  a  body  of  monks  and  prelates,  led  by  the 

4i5 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

great  abbot  of  the  Stoudion,  who  have  got  tidings  of 
the  new  imperial  '  Novel,'  and  loudly  demand  to  be 
heard.  We  shall  have  trouble,  indeed,  if  we  have  this 
tribe  against  us." 

"Bring  them  in,"  said  Nicephorus,  proudly;  "we 
will  meet  them  face  to  face.  The  Basileus  will  not  be 
driven  from  his  purpose  by  a  whole  army  of  these  men 
of  God." 

Presently  the  deputation  of  the  monasteries  was 
ushered  in,  and  Anthony,  the  syncellus  of  St.  George 
of  the  Stoudion,  spoke  in  their  name  in  no  measured 
terms. 

He  said  that  the  whole  world  of  those  holy  men  who 
wear  the  mitre  and  the  cowl  were  alarmed  at  rumors 
of  the  new  legislation  proposed.  They  could  not  be- 
lieve that  their  most  pious  and  devout  Basileus  de- 
signed to  discourage  the  religious  life  of  the  capital 
and  the  realm.  Nor  could  he  be  purposed  to  annul 
the  gifts  of  good  men  and  good  women,  who  sought  to 
save  their  souls  by  devoting  their  substance  to  God. 

"  Most  venerable  abbot,  and  you,  right  reverend  prel- 
ates and  fathers  in  the  Lord,"  said  Nicephorus,  with 
a  quiet  smile,  "it  will  not  be  believed  by  any  man  of 
sense  that  we,  the  Basileus  Augustus,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  intend  aught  of  wrong  against  Holy  Church  and 
its  consecrated  ministers.  It  is  known  to  all  men  how, 
after  the  recovery  of  Crete  from  the  children  of  Hagar, 
we  ourselves  dedicated  a  large  share  of  the  gold  spoil 
to  pious  uses.  Have  we  not  vastly  added  to  the  ven- 
erable monastery  of  Mount  Athos,  and  made  it  the  cen- 
tral sanctuary  of  our  realm  ?  Have  we  not  adorned 
its  church  with  trophies  of  bronze  and  of  marble? 
Have  we  not  presented  it   with  those  priceless  and 

416 


Basileus  in   Council 

adorable  relics — a  fragment  of  the  Cross  of  Calvary 
and  the  head  of  St.  Basil,  of  miraculous  power?" 

"It  is  known  to  all  men,  sire,"  said  the  abbot,  per- 
tinaciously, "and  it  will  be  counted  to  your  Majesty 
at  the  judgment-seat  of  God.  But  the  report  runs 
that,  forsaking  such  excellent  examples  in  the  past, 
your  council  have  prepared  an  edict  whereby  those 
pious  men  and  women  who  have  been  blessed  by  the 
Almighty  with  the  wealth  of  this  world  are  to  be  re- 
strained from  dedicating  it  to  His  service  for  the  sal- 
vation of  their  souls,  even  in  the  hour  of  their  death." 

"Let  them  dedicate  themselves  to  His  service  in 
life,"  said  Nicephorus,  passionately,  "and  not  with- 
draw their  estates  from  the  service  of  the  state  when 
they  can  enjoy  them  no  more.  We  intend  not  to 
hurt  or  to  restrain  any  existing  house  of  religion  or  of 
charity.  On  the  contrary,  we  provide  for  the  restora- 
tion and  repair  of  those  which  are  decayed.  But  we 
will  suffer  none  to  be  founded  anew.  There  are 
enough  of  them  as  it  stands — monasteries,  hospitals, 
chapelries,  and  bishoprics.  They  are  rich  enough  and 
free  enough  in  all  conscience." 

"  Sire,  there  can  never  be  enough  of  man's  substance 
reserved  to  God  and  His  blessed  ones  above,"  broke 
in  the  abbot,  solemnly  and  even  rudely;  "there  can 
never  be  enough  of  holy  men  and  holy  women  whose 
lives  are  passed  in  prayer  and  praise." 

"Prayer  and  praise,  I  warrant,"  the  Basileus  broke 
out,  as  if  he  were  in  his  camp — "prayer  for  alms  and 
praise  of  good  eating,  perhaps!  The  streets  of  our 
capital  swarm  with  these  befrocked  and  shaven  idlers. 
Every  village  is  beset  with  them.  Every  hill-side  is 
honeycombed  with  their  chantries  and  their  retreats. 

417 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

We  want  men,  not  drones.  We  want  men  who  can 
fight  as  well  as  pray,  or  one  day  these  temples  of  our 
God  may  be  turned  into  the  mosques  of  the  False 
Prophet." 

"We  come  to  implore  your  grace  to  put  no  bonds 
upon  those  who  offer  their  gifts  to  God,"  said  the  abbot, 
stoutly. 

"These  monasteries  and  infirmaries,  these  hermit- 
ages and  convents,  are  surfeited  with  wealth,"  the 
Basileus  retorted,  with  passion.  "Has  not  the  Word 
of  God  warned  us  that  a  rich  man  shall  hardly  enter 
into  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven?  Know  ye  not  that 
Scripture — 'Take  no  thought  for  your  life,  what  ye 
shall  eat,  or  what  ye  shall  drink,  nor  yet  for  your 
body  what  ye  shall  put  on!  Behold  the  fowls  of  the 
air. '  Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field.'  And,  when  Christ 
sent  forth  His  blessed  apostles,  did  He  not  charge 
them  '  to  take  no  thought  for  the  morrow  and  to  pro- 
vide neither  gold,  nor  silver,  nor  brass  in  their  purses, 
neither  two  coats,  nor  shoes,  nor  staves.'  And  now, 
the  successors  of  the  apostles  fare  sumptuously  every 
day,  and  are  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen." 

And  now  Nicephorus,  giving  rein  to  his  indignation 
and  wrath,  poured  out  a  vehement  homily,  as  if  he 
were  himself  an  ascetic  preacher  in  church.  "It  is 
sheer  lunacy — this  lust  of  good  things ;  this  insatiable 
craving  is  madness;  as  the  Psalmist  saith,  'They  are  al- 
together lighter  than  vanity ' !  They  add  field  to  field, 
grand  mansions,  stables  full  of  horses,  cattle,  camels, 
mules,  and  beasts  without  number.  These  monks, 
these  hermits,  and  servants  of  the  Most  High  give  all 
their  care  to  these  worldly  things  in  defiance  of  the 
plain  Word  of  God.     The  blessed  apostle  labored  with 

418 


Basileus  in  Council 

his  hands,  and  those  with  him,  and  doth  he  not  say, 
'We  wrought  with  labor  and  travail  night  and  day, 
that  we  might  not  be  chargeable  to  any  of  you.'  Was 
not  this  also  the  way  of  life  of  the  blessed  fathers  of 
the  Church,  and  of  those  who  first  taught  the  Gospel 
in  Palestine  and  in  Egypt,  and  in  many  places  of  the 
earth?  They  were  shining  and  burning  lights  to  wit- 
ness to  the  faith,  living  lives  so  free  from  earth's  dross 
that  they  seemed  to  be  of  the  substance  of  angels  more 
than  of  men.  Hath  not  our  blessed  Lord  said,  'Strait 
is  the  gate  and  narrow  is  the  way  which  leadeth  unto 
life,  and  few  there  be  that  find  it '  ?  And  on  all  sides 
to-day  we  see  crowds  of  these  men  of  God  who  enter 
in  at  the  broad  gate  that  leadeth  to  destruction.  But 
ye  of  the  monasteries  which  cover  our  realm,  'ye  lay 
up  for  yourselves  treasures  upon  earth.  Where  your 
treasure  is,  there  is  your  heart  also'!" 

The  crowd  of  portly  prelates,  obsequious  monks, 
and  mendicant  hermits  retired  abashed  and  cringing 
before  this  tempest  of  imperial  disdain.  But  the  stern 
abbot  of  the  Stoudion  made  a  haughty  obeisance  and 
retired  with  a  bitter  scowl.  He  knew  himself  to  have 
authority  with  the  people,  now  at  least  equal  to  that 
of  the  Basileus ;  and  he  was  in  close  alliance  with  the 
faction  of  the  Basilissa  and  in  secret  conspiracy  with 
Theophano  herself. 

The  politic  prime-minister  had  listened  to  the  out- 
burst of  Nicephorus  with  no  small  anxiety  and  sur- 
prise. He  took  occasion  to  warn  his  master  of  the 
power  of  the  monastic  orders  and  their  ill-will  towards 
any  repressive  legislation.  And  he  had  fully  tracked 
their  machinations  with  the  superstitious  populace  and 
their  concert  with  the  empress  and  her  friends  at  the 

4i9 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

court  and,  in  the  capital.  He  implored  the  sovereign 
to  moderate  the  new  edict.  He  pressed  him  to  remem- 
ber how  the  people  and  the  Church  had  defied  and 
overborne  the  greatest  of  the  Iconoclast  emperors  in 
times  gone  by. 

"Ay,  well  I  know  that  they  will  bear  me  ill-will, 
and  bitterly  resent  my  act.  Do  I  seek  to  please  men 
or  to  please  God?  as  the  blessed  St.  Paul  saith.  I 
am  the  servant  of  Christ.  And  of  this  I  am  sure,  that, 
whatever  may  be  said  by  these  pampered  men  of  the 
cloister,  the  wise  and  righteous  will  acknowledge  that 
our  purpose  is  most  salutary  to  all  true  servants  of  the 
Lord  as  well  as  to  the  well-being  of  this  our  realm. 
No  more  of  this.  My  Lord  Simon,  you  are  charged  to 
publish  this  edict  forthwith,  to  bear  title  as  the  'First 
Novel  of  our  Reign.'" 

Thereupon  Nicephorus  turned  to  consider  draughts 
of  the  other  new  edicts,  referring  to  the  tenure  of  fiefs 
by  soldiers  and  by  feudal  chiefs.  His  whole  mind  was 
bent  on  founding  a  great  and  standing  military  order, 
which  should  hold  lands  in  perpetuity  under  condition 
of  service  in  arms.  Basil,  as  Chancellor  of  Requests 
and  Petitions,  was  charged  with  this  "  Novel,"  whereby 
it  was  forbidden  to  a  rich  proprietor  to  purchase  a 
military  fief,  and  by  a  third  it  was  decreed  that  a 
military  fief,  abandoned  for  three  years  by  its  tenant, 
should  revert  to  the  general  body  of  military  tenures, 
and  not  fall  into  private  hands.  By  a  fourth  "  Novel  "  it 
was  ordered  that  the  estates  of  great  proprietors  should 
not  be  broken  up,  but  remain  in  perpetuity  estates  of 
magnates.  And,  similarly,  small  farms  could  be  ac- 
quired only  by  yeomen.  The  whole  legislative  scheme 
was  a  rude  and  ineffectual  effort  to  erect  a  system  of 

420 


Basileus  in  Council 

graduated  feudal  tenures,  and  to  found  a  permanent 
order  of  settled  warriors  holding  lands  of  the  empire 
on  the  tenure  of  defending  it  in  arms. 

And  now  Nicephorus  turned  to  a  scheme  which  he 
had  even  more  at  heart,  but  where  no  imperial  edict 
without  the  sanction  of  the  Church  could  avail.  The 
dearest  wish  of  his  heart  had  long  been  to  obtain  from 
the  patriarch  the  right  to  promise  the  honor  of  martyr- 
dom for  Christian  soldiers  who  might  fall  in  the  holy 
war  with  the  infidel.  Polyeuctus  was  now  the  enemy 
rather  than  the  friend  or  the  counsellor  of  Nicephorus, 
and  the  emperor  had  solicited  the  help  of  Athanasius 
of  Mount  Athos  to  achieve  his  end.  The  council  and 
the  legists  were  dismissed  and  the  monk  was  admitted 
in  private  audience. 

"Venerable  father  in  God,"  said  the  Basileus,  hum- 
bly saluting  his  spiritual  director  as  if  he  were  nothing 
but  a  penitent  in  confession,  "you  who  have  known 
Nicephorus  all  these  years  as  a  simple  soldier  of  Christ, 
you  who  have  so  often  seen  his  whole  heart  and  soul 
laid  bare  to  your  sight  as  to  that  of  God  himself — you 
know  how  real  is  my  reverence  for  Holy  Church  and 
its  true  sons,  how  deep  is  my  resolve  to  defend  the 
faith  to  the  end.  It  is  menaced  with  ruin,  and,  in 
spite  of  all  our  efforts  to  save  it,  the  cross  will  one 
day  fall  before  the  False  Prophet  if  we  cannot  find 
some  new  spirit  to  fire  the  hearts  of  our  Roman  sol- 
diers in  the  fight.  They  are  brave  enough,  stouter 
men  than  these  Hagarenes,  and  their  hearts  are  in  the 
cause;  but  there  is  one  thing  they  lack  —  one  thing 
that  these  sons  of  Ishmael  have — one  thing  which 
makes  them  men  impossible  to  beat.  These  infidels 
glory  in  their  death.     To  them  to  die  in  battle  is  to 

421 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

triumph  and  to  be  blessed  for  evermore.  The  false 
promises  of  the  False  Prophet  so  delude  them  that  they 
rejoice  with  their  last  gasp  that  they  are  passing  into 
paradise,  and  with  their  dying  eyes  they  see  the  houris 
of  their  foul  dreams  waiting  to  escort  them  to  the 
presence  of  God.  I  tell  you,  my  father,  I  have  seen 
these  unbelievers  on  a  hundred  battle-fields  die  smiling 
with  joy,  as  men  smile  who  have  won  the  prize  in  the 
chariot -race,  or  as  martyrs  smile  when  they  see  Christ 
in  the  sky  above  the  scaffold,  saying  to  them,  'Come, 
ye  blessed  of  the  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  pre- 
pared for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world.'  Our 
men  will  face  death,  but  they  do  not  glory  in  death, 
seek  for  death,  long  for  death  as  a  priceless  glory  and 
certain  heaven.  If  Holy  Church  awarded  them  the 
palm  of  martyrdom,  they  would  be  consumed  with 
such  fire  that  they  would  sweep  the  Hagarenes  back 
into  their  desert.  Verily,  they  are  martyrs  —  they 
witness  to  the  eternal  Word  of  Christ." 

"Sire,"  replied  the  monk,  his  worn  and  cadaverous 
form  in  strange  contrast  with  the  massive  frame  of 
the  Basileus,  "I  have  held  long  interviews  with  the 
venerable  Patriarch,  and  I  find  him  inexorable  and  in 
bitter  opposition  to  your  schemes  of  reform,  and  es- 
pecially to  this." 

"  Go  back  to  his  holiness  and  press  him  to  consider 
the  imminent  peril  of  our  empire  and  our  faith." 

"He  will  never  yield.  He  has  made  it  a  matter  of 
faith,  of  respect  for  the  sacred  ordinances  of  our  Church. 
The  canons  of  St.  Basil  exclude  from  the  sacraments 
during  three  years  those  who  have  shed  blood." 

"What!  those  who  die  fighting  for  Christ  in  defence 
of  His  people  and  of  His  consecrated  altars  and  fanes!" 

422 


Basileus  in   Council 

"  It  is  the  law  of  the  Church,  which  neither  sovereign 
nor  prelate  can  rescind;  and  the  law  of  God's  Church 
in  council  pronounced  is  the  law  of  God,"  said  the 
monk,  sadly,  but  with  invincible  tenacity. 

"But  this  is  to  sacrifice  the  people  of  God  to  the 
decrees  of  men.  Truly,  as  the  apostle  saith,  'the  let- 
ter killeth,  but  the  spirit  maketh  alive.'  The  patriarch 
has  entered  into  the  conspiracy  against  me;  and  I 
know  that  it  is  fomented  even  within  this  very  palace. 
My  enemies  and  traitors  are  here.  But  I  will  not  suf- 
fer them  to  make  it  the  secret  haunt  of  their  designs. 
The  prime  mover  of  these  deeds  is  about  to  be  re- 
moved." 

"My  son,  what  dost  thou  mean?  Hast  thou  com- 
mitted thyself  to  any  attempt  against  the  life  or  the 
liberty  of  the  Basilissa?  Beware,  O  King;  it  is  a  ter- 
rible path  thou  art  about  to  tread!" 

"My  father,  at  midnight  this  day  Theophano  will  be 
taken  in  her  chamber  and  silently  removed  to  the 
royal  villa  at  Prote.  No  harm  or  indignity  will  befall 
her.  She  will  be  attended  as  a  Basilissa  in  retreat, 
with  ample  retinue — but  a  sure  guard.  She  will  no 
longer  countermine  my  government  nor  plot  against 
my  honor  and  my  life.  She  or  I  must  succumb  in 
this  long  strife.  I  am  necessary  yet  awhile  to  Rome 
and  this  cause,  or  I  would  rejoice  to  be  her  victim. 
Her  victim  I  may  yet  be.  I  will  not  be  her  plaything 
or  her  tool.     No!  nor  shall  she  be  my  dishonor!" 

"  Nicephorus,  my  son  in  God,"  said  the  monk,  stern- 
ly, "thou  art  treading  the  path 'that  leadeth  to  de- 
struction. It  was  foul  sin  when  thou  didst  defy  the 
ordinances  of  Holy  Church  to  wed  the  relict  of  our 
late  Basileus.  Thy  abominable  sin  hath  found  thee 
2s  423 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

out,  and  now  thou  art  rushing  into  fresh  sin  in  seeking 
to  put  her  away.  What  cause  hath  she  given  thee, 
what  that  thou  didst  not  know  —  or  shouldst  have 
known — when  thou  hadst  her  to  wife?" 

"  Father,  I  say  to  thee,  even  as  David  said  to  Nathan, 
'  I  have  sinned  against  the  Lord.'  But  the  woman  has 
been  seeking  to  seduce  ray  best  comrades  and  officers, 
and  tempting  them  to  betray  me  and  to  dishonor  me." 

"  Has  all  this  been  proved  before  competent  judges  ? 
Would  his  holiness  the  patriarch  hold  any  commun- 
ion with  her  if  he  was  certain  of  her  guilt  ?  What 
proof  have  you  of  her  offences  and,  especially,  of  the 
sin  of  infidelity  to  her  husband?" 

"I  can  obtain  no  such  proof  as  would  convince  the 
patriarch,  who  still  holds  her  undefiled,  and  even  seeks 
her  aid  in  resisting  my  ordinances  as  to  the  Church 
and  my  soldiers." 

"Whom  has  she  seduced?"  said  the  monk,  imper- 
atively. 

"She  seized  and  then  tempted  my  best  -  beloved 
friend  and  comrade  whom  I  now  mourn  as  my  brother, 
and  then  she  sought  to  cast  her  spell  on  my  chief  gen- 
eral, with  whom  I  suspect  she  is  plotting  against  my 
throne — ay,  and  I  suspect  against  my  life." 

"Is  this  more  than  suspicion  and  the  fear  which  ever 
haunts  this  palace?  Is  not  this  more  truly,  my  son 
of  sorrow,  a  sinful  love  turning  into  suspicious  hate? 
What  proof  hast  thou  of  open  crime?" 

"Speak  not  of  hate,  my  father,  for  all  her  offences 
and  treacheries  have  not  yet  utterly  burned  out  my 
love.  For  the  sake  of  Rome  and  of  this  cause,  and 
the  people  of  Christ,  I  must  live  and  rule,  and  to  live 
and  to  rule  I  must  put  her  away.     But  it  is  agony  even 

424 


Basileus  in  Council 

now,  my  father,  to  part  from  her.  I  would  die  rather 
than  do  harm  to  a  single  hair  of  her  head.  But  she 
must  depart  from  out  this  house,  from  ottt  this  city, 
lest  she  ruin  more  men  whom  this  empire  needs  in  the 
present  sore  straits." 

"She  must  not  depart  from  this  place,  nor  be  cast 
out  from  your  throne.  Part  from  the  bed  that  it  was 
sin  and  folly  to  have  entered ;  but  touch  not  her  im- 
perial rights.  Rome  has  ever  suffered  when  the  house 
of  its  rulers  has  been  rent  in  twain.  Remember  the 
dark  history  of  this  palace  and  its  dynasties,  and  all 
the  deeds  of  shame  and  horror  which  were  done  of  old 
when  husband  drove  out  wife,  and  wife  conspired 
against  husband,  when  mother  deposed  her  son,  and 
son  rose  against  father,  and  brother  murdered  brother. 
Remember  what  was  done  by  an  Irene,  a  Eudocia, 
a  Theodora,  a  Michael,  a  Justin,  and  a  Theophilus. 
Begin  not  a  new  tragedy  in  this  house,  of  which  the 
very  walls  bear  witness  to  deeds  of  cruelty,  passion, 
and  sin.  To  throw  into  prison  the  widow  of  Romanus 
would  divide  this  realm  into  factions,  and  would  re- 
new the  household  feuds  and  horrors  which  have 
ceased  now  for  fifty  years.  And  these  children,  the 
young  Basilei,  who  must  in  a  few  years  reign  here, 
how  shall  they  be  reared  while  their  mother  is  a  pris- 
oner ? — how  will  they  bear  with  him  who  cast  her  into 
prison  ?" 

"  I  am  the  victim  of  a  cruel  alternative,  my  father, 
but  I  am  ready  to  die  for  this  cause.  If  she  has  her 
way,  she  will  ruin  it,  and,  most  assuredly,  she  will  work 
that  ruin  by  my  death." 

"Then  die,  if  it  be  the  will  of  God,  but  sin  not — or 
sin  no  more.     Add  not  cruelty,  revenge,  and  oppression 

425 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

to  lust  and  folly.  Leave  to  this  woman  her  undoubted 
rights  as  empress,  as  mother  of  our  emperors,  as  your 
own  wife.  Live  your  own  life  apart  from  her  as  you 
choose;  but,  if  you  make  her  your  prisoner,  the  ob- 
ject of  your  enmity  and  anger,  the  whole  force  of 
Mother  Church  shall  be  directed  to  restrain  your  vio- 
lence and  to  defend  your  victim." 

"And  the  Church  condemns  me  to  death  and  makes 
me  the  victim,"  said  Nicephorus,  sadly  and  with  resig- 
nation. 

"If  you  do  not  yield  to  its  summons,"  replied  the 
monk,  with  imperious  tone,  "the  Church  will  expel 
vou  from  its  offices,  refuse  you  its  absolution,  and 
abandon  you  to  the  spirits  of  evil  to  die  unforgiven 
in  your  sins.  Choose,  Nicephorus,  between  your  pas- 
sion and  the  safety  of  your  soul." 

With  this  terrible  word,  which  was  cruel  enough  to 
break  every  spirit  of  that  age,  the  inexorable  confessor 
left  the  presence. 

And  hour  after  hour  the  Basileus,  with  groans  and 
prayers,  looked  down  into  the  black  gulf  on  the  edge 
of  which  he  felt  that  he  stood. 


XXIX 
The   Rising  Storm 

NICEPHORUS,  in  proud  trust  in  his  own  mission 
from  on  high,  and  conscious  of  his  own  rectitude 
and  devotion  to  the  cause  of  God's  realm  on  earth, 
would  brook  no  interference  with  his  will  from  his  min- 
isters, his  people,  or  the  priests.  He  yielded  only  to 
the  venerated  abbot  of  Mount  Athos,  his  own  beloved 
friend  and  confessor,  Athanasius,  in  the  matter  of  the 
empress,  Theophano.  He  abstained  from  carrying 
out  his  purpose  to  remove  her  from  the  city  and  place 
her  in  honorary  restraint.  And  his  submission  to  the 
saintly  hermit  was  not  a  little  aided  by  some  lingering, 
if  unconscious,  touches  of  tenderness  for  the  woman 
whom  he  once  had  loved  so  passionately,  and  so  hum- 
bly, so  blindly,  so  devoutly  had  adored.  He  was 
again  striving  every  nerve  to  reorganize  a  vast  ex- 
pedition for  a  third  Asian  campaign,  wherein  he  was 
finally  to  crush  the  dynasty  of  Chamdas  and  secure 
the  Syrian  gates  of  Lebanon  so  as  to  open  the  way 
of  triumph  to  the  Holy  Land  itself. 

The  enormous  cost  of  these  levies  of  men,  drawn 
from  all  parts  of  the  empire — from  the  coast  of  Italy, 
across  Greece  and  Asia,  as  far  as  the  sources  of  the 
Euphrates — of  the  countless  stores,  arms,  and  equip- 
ments they  required,  strained  to  the  utmost  the  finances 

427 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

of  the  state.  Nicephorus  knew  nothing  of  fiscal  re- 
sources and  of  ways  and  means.  He  despised  all 
uses  of  money  unless  it  were  treated  as  the  sinews  of 
war.  He  left  to  his  ministers  the  duty  of  devising  the 
methods  of  taxation.  All  that  he  insisted  on  was  the 
perpetual  replenishment  of  his  war-chests — rem  qiw- 
cunque  modo,  rem.  He  ordered  the  exchequer  to 
exact  the  taxes  to  the  most  rigid  point.  He  allowed 
bishoprics,  abbeys,  and  eleemosynary  foundations  to 
remain  vacant,  while  the  revenues  were  collected  by  the 
state.  He  withheld  the  customary  doles  to  the  sena- 
tors and  high  officers  of  the  empire,  in  the  name  of 
public  economy  and  the  needs  of  the  war  against  the 
infidel.  Leo,  his  brother,  and  Sisinnios,  the  prefect, 
were  loudly  accused  of  regrating  corn  during  time  of 
scarcity.  And,  worse  than  all,  they  obtained  from  the 
ignorance  of  the  emperor  a  decree  to  coin  a  new  no- 
misma,  or  gold  bezant,  which  was  said  to  be  alloyed  as 
to  one-fourth  with  baser  metal,  and  was  henceforth 
known  as  a  tctrateron,  a  "quarter-piece." 

The  popular  discontent  grew  day  by  day,  fanned 
by  disappointed  nobles,  voluble  demagogues,  and  fa- 
natical monks.  All  day  long  angry  crowds  gathered 
in  the  streets,  markets,  and  courts  of  the  churches. 
They  were  roughly  handled  by  the  city  police  or 
savagely  dispersed  by  the  foreign  guardsmen.  The 
great  Armenian  soldier  himself,  his  whole  soul  aflame 
with  the  thought  of  the  holy  war,  despised  equally 
the  effeminate  nobility,  the  noisy  mob,  and  the  lazy 
monks.  But  his  martial  eye  perceived  the  defence- 
less condition  of  the  Sacred  Palace,  and  he  saw  the 
necessity  of  securing  the  seat  of  government.  Accord- 
ingly, he  undertook  a  vast  defensive  work — a  wall  with 

428 


The   Rising  Storm 

towers,  battlements,  and  gates  which  cut  off  the  city 
from  the  palace.  It  was  something  like  the  later 
rampart  we  see  to-day  that  stretches  from  the  Golden 
Horn  to  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  and  separates  the  old 
Seraglio  and  its  dependencies  from  the  rest  of  Stam- 
boul.  And,  not  content  with  this  vast  domestic  de- 
fence, Nicephorus  proceeded  to  enlarge  and  fortify  the 
palace  of  Boucoleon  on  the  edge  of  the  port,  which 
henceforth  became  the  imperial  abode  and  "keep," 
as  the  Normans  would  have  named  it.  It  was  the 
real  "  Bastile." 

Crowds  would  gather  round  the  works,  as  thousands 
of  laborers,  imported  mainly  from  the  Thessalonican 
Theme  and  the  Greek  islands,  toiled  over  the  long  lines 
of  masonry.  Here  a  voluble  street  orator,  one  Simeon, 
a  cobbler  by  trade,  got  a  number  of  loafers  to  listen  to 
his  eloquence.  "  What  is  to  become  of  us,  my  friends, 
if  everything  in  Rome  is  to  be  sacrificed  to  paying  sol- 
diers and  building  fortresses?  We  used  to  believe 
this  city,  with  its  walls,  was  safe  enough  against  all 
enemies  east  or  west,  barbarians  or  infidels,  whether 
they  came  in  ships  or  over  the  mountains  of  Thrace. 
Are  we  the  barbarians  or  the  infidels  against  whom 
the  Basilei  must  be  protected  by  walls  and  towers  ?  I 
can  remember,  my  lads,  the  days  of  Constantine,  the 
good,  dear  old  man,  who  hated  war  and  gave  us  love- 
ly shows,  and  then  young  Romanus,  with  his  free  hand 
and  kind  smile,  whom  somebody  made  an  end  of,  they 
do  tell  me.  Will  fighting  in  Syria  bring  us  bread  or 
make  trade  brisk  ?  In  old  days,  the  court  took  care  to 
sell  us  poor  folks  corn  at  a  cheap  rate  in  bad  times; 
but  now  it  doubles  the  price,  while  the  poll-tax  keeps 
it  company  at  the  same  rate.     And  nobody  gets  work 

429 


Theophano:   The   Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

but  these  blacklegs  of  Hellenes  or  the  leather-sellers 
on  the  Strymon,  where  they  make  the  troopers'  boots." 
But  here  a  detachment  of  Macedonian  spearmen, 
marching  to  relieve  the  guard,  broke  in  upon  the  crowd, 
roughly  forcing  their  way  with  the  flat  of  their  swords 
and  many  a  broken  head,  as  they  dashed  the  citizens 
aside  with  their  round  bucklers.  Amid  shrieks,  yells, 
and  curses,  the  terrified  mob  took  to  their  heels. 

The  next  day  it  was  Easter  Eve,  and  the  city  was 
filled  with  crowds  which  poured  in  from  all  the  coun- 
try round  to  attend  the  celebrations  of  Holy  Week, 
and  the  myriad  churches,  chapels,  and  chantries  rang 
night  and  day  with  "  Kyrie  eleison,"  litanies,  and 
wild  sermons,  interspersed  with  hardly  veiled  attacks 
on  the  imperial  government  and  even  person.  In  the 
great  court -yard  of  the  Stoudion  monastery,  an  elo- 
quent brother,  Elias,  was  holding  forth  to  an  excited 
crowd : 

"You  have  heard,  my  brethren,  how  they  are  about 
to  confiscate  the  lands  and  properties  dedicated  of 
old  by  the  pious  to  the  Prince  of  Peace  and  to  the 
uses  of  his  poorest  servants  in  order  to  devote  them 
to  war.  They  pretend  that  it  is  a  holy  war,  a  cru- 
sade against  the  Hagarene,  to  rescue  our  brethren  from 
the  False  Prophet.  Was  the  war  against  our  Chris- 
tian neighbors,  the  Bulgars,  a  holy  war?  Was  the 
war  with  the  Catholic  princes  of  Italy  and  the  German 
Caesar  a  crusade  for  the  faith?  Are  there  not  false 
prophets — ay,  and  cruel  tyrants — among  the  rulers 
of  a  Christian  state  ?  It  is  a  strange  way  to  drive  out 
the  unbelievers  to  make  a  dead  set  at  our  Mother 
Church  and  seize  its  poor  alms  whereby  it  supports 
the  servants  of  Christ  and  keeps  alive  the  starving 

430 


The   Rising  Storm 

and  needy  children  of  God.  We  have  to  feed  them, 
we  have  to  live  ourselves,  we  humble  brothers  of  the 
destitute  and  the  sick.  Do  my  brethren  here  in  these 
cold  cells — do  I  ? — look  like  one  who  is  pampered  with 
good  things  and  clothed  in  rich  garments?  No,  my 
brothers,  we  are  the  Lazarus  of  whom  our  Blessed  Lord 
spake;  and  the  rich  man  of  His  proverb  lords  it  be- 
hind those  golden  gates.  Verily,  I  tell  them  that  we, 
the  poor  and  the  humble,  will  be  in  the  bosom  of  Fa- 
ther Abraham  above,  and  thence  we  shall  see  those 
who  have  robbed  us  cast  into  hell,  being  in  torment 
amid  the  flames,  crying  to  the  Lord  to  allay  their 
pains." 

The  crowd  broke  up  with  great  excitement  and 
gathered  in  knots  at  the  street  corners  and  markets. 
At  one  group,  a  farmer,  who  had  come  in  from  a  neigh- 
boring village,  was  pouring  out  his  griefs  to  sympa- 
thizing citizens.  "A  company  of  savage  fellows  from 
Mount  Rhodope,  professing  to  be  new  levies  for  the 
Macedonian  shieldmen,  had  plundered  his  homestead, 
killed  his  goats,  carried  off  his  best  horse,  robbed  his 
chest,  and  outraged  his  daughters."  "  Had  he  brought 
his  plaint  to  the  city  magistrates?"  "He  had,  and 
the  sergeant  of  the  company  got  five  big  ruffians  to 
swear  it  was  false."  "The  civil  courts  can  do  noth- 
ing in  the  way  of  justice  on  a  soldier!"  another  cried. 
"In  my  case,"  said  another  in  the  crowd,  "I  had  my 
plaint  laid  before  a  member  of  the  emperor's  own  staff. 
All  that  I  got  for  reply  was  that  the  holy  war  had  in 
fact  begun,  and  the  autocrator  could  listen  to  nothing 
but  to  military  crimes."  "Oh,  as  to  that,"  whined  a 
shrunken  and  tattered  fellow  in  the  crowd,  "I  know 
that   he  can  be  pitiless  enough.     I  was  charged  with 

43i 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

being  asleep  on  sentry-go,  and  got  my  nose  slit,  as  you 
see,  my  masters,  and  four  dozen  rods  broken  on  my 
bare  back.  I  was  a  ruined  man  from  that  day,  and 
have  had  to  beg  in  the  streets  ever  since.  Even  the 
monks  will  not  take  me  with  these  scars,  for  I  served 
in  the  Bulgar  war,  and  am  cut  off  from  the  sacra- 
ments of  the  Church.  Masters,  I  tell  you,  the  Basileus 
is  drunk  with  war,  mad  with  war.  To  smash  the 
Prophet,  he  is  ready  to  sacrifice  the  people  of  Christ 
wholesale." 

All  this  time  frequent  conferences  were  being  held 
within  the  palace  itself,  in  the  apartments  of  the 
Basilissa,  with  her  connivance,  and  even  in  her  pres- 
ence from  time  to  time,  which  constituted  a  sort  of 
palace  opposition  to  the  imperial  policy  and  decrees. 
The  patriarch  would  often  attend.  Two  magistroi, 
and  three  other  patricians,  and  the  abbot  of  the  Stou- 
dion,  joined  the  conclave.  Day  after  day  the  patri- 
arch would  denounce  the  informal,  schismatic,  and  un- 
canonical  synod  wherein  the  Basileus  had  obtained 
the  right  to  choose  for  bishoprics  and  abbeys  those 
who  were  presented  to  his  choice  by  the  Church.  It 
was  the  eternal  quarrel  of  the  "investitures,"  between 
Church  and  sovereign,  which  so  often  and  so  long 
shook  the  west.  "This  man  of  war,  this  unlearned 
and  unregenerate  soldier,"  Polyeuctus  would  argue, 
"can  thus  put  into  the  sees  throughout  the  empire 
creatures  of  his  own ;  and  if  we  refuse  to  present  church- 
men whom  he  favors,  he  can  keep  the  holy  office  vacant 
while  his  fisc  absorbs  the  revenues  to  lavish  them  on 
the  troops." 

The  fanatical  abbot  of  the  Stoudion  now  broke  in. 
"He  has  even  dared  to  tamper  with  the  dues  that  are 

432 


The   Rising  Storm 

levied  by  our  holy  abbey  according  to  ancient  con- 
stitutions of  the  pious  sovereigns  who  succeeded  the 
sacrilegious  race  of  Iconoclasts.  His  officers  even 
ventured  to  impound  the  tribute  of  oil  that  belongs 
of  right  to  the  monks  of  Mount  Athos." 

"Father  Athanasius,"  interposed  Theophano,  "will 
bring  him  to  reason  there.  He  is  the  one  man  in 
Church  or  in  State  to  whom  my  lord  and  master  will 
listen." 

"There  is  still  one  woman  to  whom  he  gives  way," 
fawned  the  patrician  Theodore. 

"No  longer,"  she  replied,  hotly,  and  added,  with  an 
air  of  resignation,  "He  has  designs  upon  my  liberty — 
perhaps  upon  my  life." 

"Defend  yourself,  madam,"  said  Theodore;  "your 
life,  your  full  freedom  of  action,  is  now  the  most  pre- 
cious thing  left  in  Rome.  Appeal  to  the  army,  to  its 
gallant  leaders,  to  the  senate,  and  the  nobles  of  our 
land." 

"Our  prerogatives  are  being  torn  from  us  day  by 
day,"  groaned  the  magistros  Marianos;  "the  donations 
which  our  bounteous  sovereigns  from  old  time  distrib- 
uted to  the  nobles  at  the  holy  festivals  have  been 
withheld  by  absurd  pretexts  of  economy.  Not  that 
we  need  or  value  such  trifles  of  the  royal  favor.  But 
the  public  withholding  of  them  has  been  a  slur  on 
our  honor,  and  has  fatally  diminished  our  influence 
with  the  government  and  our  authority  with  the 
people." 

"  A  chief  must  be  found  who  is  able  to  resist  this  op- 
pression," said  the  patriarch. 

"Say,  rather,"  said  the  abbot,  "one  who  is  able  to 
replace  the  oppressor." 

433 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Marianos  and  the  patricians  smiled  with  a  com- 
placent and  important  air. 

"  Remember,"  said  Theophano,  with  decision,  "noth- 
ing can  be  done  but  by  a  soldier.  No  man  can  stem 
the  oppression  that  desolates  this  empire  if  he  has 
not  the  voice  of  the  army.  None  could  wean  them 
from  devotion  to  Nicephorus  but  a  hero,  a  beloved 
chief,  one  who  has  led  them  to  victory  in  a  hundred 
fights." 

"Her  Majesty  speaks  truly  and  wisely,"  said  the 
crafty  abbot,  as  the  conference  closed.  Nor  did 
magistroi  or  patricians  venture  to  say  her  nay. 

On  Ascension  Day,  from  early  dawn,  the  streets  were 
crowded  with  citizens  and  country-folk  hurrying  to 
witness  the  processions  to  the  fanes  and  take  part  in 
the  ceremonies  of  the  festival.  At  the  Neorion  port 
on  the  Golden  Horn  near  the  Strategion,  where  a  body 
of  new  recruits  had  been  exercising,  a  riot  broke  out 
between  them  and  the  sailors  of  the  merchant  ships. 
These  wild  fellows  from  the  Armenian  highlands  looked 
upon  the  capital  as  a  conquered  city,  and  had  begun 
to  plunder  the  wine,  fruit,  and  meats  that  were  in 
course  of  unloading  on  the  quay.  The  dealers,  their 
men,  and  the  seamen  defended  their  property.  Arms 
were  drawn,  and  a  furious  mob  assailed  the  troopers 
with  every  missile  within  reach.  For  an  hour  the 
whole  quarter  rang  with  cries  of  battle  and  the  din 
of  the  riot.  The  soldiers  at  last,  outnumbered  and 
surrounded,  fought  their  way  back  to  their  quarters, 
leaving  many  dead  and  dying  on  the  ground.  Nor  was 
order  restored  until  the  prefect  arrived  with  a  strong 
guard  and  vainly  tried  to  pacify  the  crowds  of  citizens 
who  called  for  punishment  of  the  aggressors,  carrying 

434 


The   Rising  Storm 

in  procession  the  corpses  of  their  comrades  and 
intending  to  bear  them  to  the  very  gate  of  the 
palace. 

Week  by  week  the  irritation  of  the  city  had  been 
increasing,  which  Nicephorus,  if  he  noticed  it  at  all, 
treated  with  quiet  disdain.  On  that  very  Day  of  As- 
cension he  made  the  official  visit  of  ceremony  to  the 
venerated  church  of  Mary,  outside  the  northern  ram- 
part, known  then  and  now  as  Pege,  or  the  Holy 
Well.  Leo,  our  young  student,  and  his  friend,  Joannes, 
"the  geometer,"  had  been  called  out  to  the  riot  and 
now  attended  the  train  of  the  Basileus.  It  was  tow- 
ards sunset  when  the  imperial  cortege  returned  over 
the  crowded  route  of  many  miles,  and  at  last  passed 
into  the  narrow  streets,  at  that  moment  thronged  with 
citizens  making  holiday. 

"Do  you  see  how  those  market  fellows  under  the 
portico  of  Theodosius  there  scowl  at  the  Basileus?" 
said  Leo,  to  his  friend.  "  He  would  not  be  safe  among 
them  without  the  guard." 

"Hear  that  yell  of  rage  from  the  roof  of  the  baker's 
house  on  the  left,"  said  Joannes. 

"Nicephorus  seems  the  only  man  in  the  street  who 
does  not  notice  it.  He  rides  on  with  his  eyes  bent 
down  like  a  man  in  a  reverie,'-'  said  Leo. 

"After  the  bloody  street -fight  we  saw  this  morning, 
it  would  be  strange  if  the  mob  were  not  in  a  savage 
mood,"  said  Joannes.  "Ah!  there  is  a  dense  crowd 
in  the  forum  of  Constantine  beyond.  There  seems 
to  be  some  one  on  the  steps  of  the  column  haranguing 
the  people." 

"I  see,"  said  Leo;  "it  is  that  mad  monk  from  the 
Stoudion,    Brother    Elias.      He    has    been    preaching 

435 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

against  the  Basileus  again.     We  shall  have  a  pretty 
row  in  five  minutes,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Leo." 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  when  yells, 
mingled  with  curses  and  missiles,  filled  the  air.  The 
guard  in  front  of  the  procession  roughly  forced  a  path 
through  the  crowd,  thrusting  back  the  people  with 
blows  and  the  hoofs  of  their  horses.  The  immense 
mob,  furious  with  indignation,  pressed  on  the  riders 
with  outcries  and  menaces.  "Assassin,  tyrant,  usurp- 
er," were  the  names  shouted  forth.  Stones,  garbage, 
and  mud  were  flung  at  the  imperial  party  as  the  guard 
closed  in  a  ring  round  the  Basileus. 

"  By  St.  Andrew,  this  is  too  much!"  cried  Leo;  "the 
pitcher  only  just  missed  his  head,"  as  from  the  third 
story  of  a  tenement -house  a  virago,  with  horrid  curses, 
hurled  a  heavy  stone-ware  jug  at  the  sovereign  below. 
And  from  the  same  window,  at  that  moment,  a  girl, 
in  a  loose  dress  and  dishevelled  hair,  hurled  a  brass 
pan  down  on  the  emperor  as  he  rode  beneath  their 
house. 

"Break  into  that  door!"  shouted  the  captain  of 
police  to  his  men;  "seize  the  old  hag  and  her  girl.  I 
know  them  well.  It  is  a  doss-house  for  the  worst 
kind  of  begging  monk.  And  the  women  are  as  bad  as 
the  monks." 

"See  how  Nicephorus  there  sits  his  horse  and  does 
not  even  look  round  him!"  said  Leo.  "He  rides  on  as 
calm  and  unconcerned  in  the  hurly-burly  as  if  he  were 
St.  George  in  an  ikon.  What  coolness  and  nerve  the 
man  has!  He  seems  to  see  their  missiles  as  little  as 
he  hears  their  curses.  He  looks  as  steady  and  un- 
disturbed as  if  he  were  the  bronze  statue  of  Justinian 
on  his  horse." 

436 


The   Rising  Storm 

"  And  that  stone  jug  might  easily  have  smashed  him," 
said  Joannes.  "It  just  grazed  the  plume;  they  might 
have  killed  him  as  they  did  Apambas  in  the  revolution." 

The  guard  closed  in  round  their  emperor,  who  rode 
on  quietly,  without  a  word  and  without  moving  a 
muscle,  amid  execrations  and  volleys  of  mud.  And 
night  at  last  dispersed  the  mob. 

The  next  day  the  prefect  of  the  city  waited  on  the 
Basileus  to  take  his  orders  as  to  the  punishments  to  be 
awarded  to  the  riotous  quarter  and  the  fate  of  the 
prisoners  arrested  by  the  police. 

"Let  them  go,"  said  Nicephorus,  "and  leave  the 
citizens  alone.  No  bones  are  broken,  and  I  care  noth- 
ing for  their  shouts.  The  times  are  hard.  We  may 
have  been  too  close-fisted  with  the  corn,  and  my  Ar- 
menians are  a  rough  lot.  But,  at  such  a  crisis  in  the 
holy  war,  I  dare  not  be  too  hard  on  my  brothers  in 
arms  who  are  giving  their  lives  for  Christ.  If  we  can 
smash  the  False  Prophet  forever,  the  city  mobs  will 
begin  to  cheer  me  again  as  of  old." 

The  prefect  was  forced  to  abstain  from  any  harsh 
treatment  of  the  quarter.  But  he  kept  some  of  the 
worst  of  his  prisoners  in  jail.  And  as  for  the  two 
women  whose  missiles  had  wounded  some  of  the  police, 
and  whom  he  knew  to  keep  a  thieves'  den,  Leo  saw 
them  publicly  burned  in  the  circus  of  St.  Mamas — a 
low,  suburban   arena — as  a  warning  to  all  rioters. 

Before  leaving  the  capital  for  the  front,  Nicephorus 
was  urged  to  give  a  show  of  chariot -races  in  the  Hip- 
podrome with  more  than  usual  magnificence.  His 
council  regarded  it  as  a  mode  of  pacifying  the  public 
discontent.  Seated  high  in  the  cathisma,  the  royal 
gallery,  surrounded  by  the  empress,  her  sons,  and  the 

437 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

court,  in  .full  gala  trim,  Nicephorus  submitted  with 
the  best  grace  he  could  command  to  the  tedious  ex- 
hibitions of  the  arena.  Before  the  games  were  over 
he  thought  it  well  to  give  the  Byzantine  public  a  sight 
of  the  new  levies  from  Macedonia,  whom  he  was  about 
to  lead  into  Syria.  So  he  ordered  two  "bands,"  or 
regiments,  of  foot-soldiers  to  advance  into  the  arena, 
just  cleared  of  the  horse-races,  and  to  be  paraded  in 
sections.  For  a  time  the  citizens  on  their  benches 
watched  with  amusement  the  unwonted  spectacle  of 
military  evolutions  in  their  Hippodrome.  Warming 
with  the  sight  of  his  men  in  splendid  battle  array, 
Nicephorus  now  sent  orders  to  charge  in  a  mimic 
fight,  with  levelled  lances  and  the  familiar  war-cries 
of  their  tribes.  As  the  companies  charged  till  the 
lances  actually  crashed  upon  the  bucklers  and  the 
vast  Hippodrome  rang  with  the  shouts  and  clash  of 
arms,  panic  seized  the  spectators.  The  cry  was  raised 
that  the  Basileus  had  ordered  a  general  massacre,  as 
in  the  dreadful  sedition  of  the  "Nika"  of  old.  With 
shrill  yells  the  crowds  rose  from  their  benches,  poured 
down  the  gangways  in  mad  confusion,  and  choked  the 
doorways  and  passages.  Shrieks  rose  far  and  near,  as 
the  terrified  crowd  trampled  each  other  to  death  or 
were  crushed  by  the  weight  of  those  behind  them  in 
the  agonies  of  fright.  Before  anything  could  be  done 
to  stem  the  torrent,  before  the  emperor,  in  his  lofty 
gallery,  quite  understood  what  was  happening  under 
his  eyes,  a  ghastly  mass  of  mangled  bodies  and  bloody 
limbs,  jammed  inextricably  together,  filled  the  cor- 
ridors and  gateways  of  the  circus,  which  an  hour  be- 
fore had  been  a  festive  scene  of  beauty  and  enjoyment. 
The  Basileus  arose  from  his  throne  as  soon  as  he 
438 


The   Rising  Storm 

comprehended  the  cause  of  the  disaster,  and,  in  a 
voice  which  overpowered  the  shrieks  below,  gave  the 
word  to  the  troops  to  halt  and  stand  at  attention. 
Every  sword  and  every  lance  was  held  motionless,  as 
the  men  stood  like  statues  in  their  ranks.  The  em- 
peror resumed  his  seat  in  order  to  recall  the  people 
from  their  panic  and  imitate  his  own  repose. 

It  was  too  late.  All  the  afternoon  the  ambulances 
and  the  surgeons  with  their  staff  toiled  at  removing 
from  the  quivering  mass  the  dying  and  the  dead. 
Nicephorus,  having  given  all  necessary  orders,  slowly 
and  sadly  went  back  to  his  cabinet,  feeling  that  some 
curse  had  fallen  on  his  head,  if  it  were  not  that  God 
had  pu -posed  to  end  his  reign  in  ruin  and  blood. 

And  for  long  years  the  people  of  Byzantium  bit- 
terly mourned  over  the  death  and  mutilation  of  those 
dear  to  them,  which  they  placed  to  the  indifference  of 
their  sovereign,  but  which  really  was  due  to  their  own 
folly,  cowardice,  and  panic  terror. 


XXX 

The  Last  Campaign 

NICEPHORUS  was  now  again  in  Asia,  on  his  third 
and  last  great  expedition  to  achieve  the  recon- 
quest  of  Syria.  Night  after  night,  the  fire -signals 
across  the  Bosphorus  recorded  the  rapid  stages  of  the 
imperial  advance  over  the  passes  of  the  Amanus,  and 
day  by  day  couriers  arrived  with  despatches  to  the 
regents  and  the  council  of  state.  It  was  known  that 
the  Basileus  was  bent  on  recovering  to  Christendom 
Antioch  and  Aleppo,  finally  driving  the  Moslem  from 
Syria,  and  at  last  planting  the  Cross  again  on  the  tomb 
of  the  Saviour  in  the  Holy  City. 

The  capital  was  kept  in  a  constant  state  of  excite- 
ment and  expectation.  Crowds  gathered  in  the  streets 
and  forums  discussing  the  reports  and  the  rumors,  and 
decorations  were  hung  on  the  buildings  and  public 
monuments  as  each  new  success  of  the  triumphant 
army  was  announced.  The  anxiety  of  the  official 
world  was  at  last  satisfied  by  a  meeting  of  the  senate 
at  which  the  regents  undertook  to  make  full  announce- 
ment of  the  state  of  affairs. 

The  nobles  and  all  who  had  the  right  to  attend  or 
who  could  obtain  access  to  the  tribunes  and  approaches 
crowded  into  the  senate  house,  which  resounded  with 
loud    acclamations    as    Leo,   the   curopalate,   and   his 

440 


The   Last  Campaign 

ministers  took  their  seats.  And  the  cheers  and  cries 
of  "Long,  long  life!"  were  redoubled  when  the  vener- 
able Bardas  Phocas,  the  father  of  the  Basileus,  was 
borne  along  into  the  assembly  in  his  carrying-chair. 
The  old  hero,  shrunk  to  a  skeleton,  wrinkled  and 
shrivelled  like  a  mummy — the  sarcastic  Bishop  Luit- 
prand  declares  that  he  looked  one  hundred — with  still 
some  light  in  his  eye,  and  his  snow-white  beard,  seemed 
like  a  ghost  of  the  past  as  he  was  lifted,  tottering  and 
bent,  into  his  place.  And  the  cries  of  "Long,  long 
life!"  again  renewed,  seemed  a  cruel  mockery  of  his 
exhausted  frame. 

When  the  storm  of  cheering  had  at  last  subsided, 
the  regent  rose  and  spoke  thus: 

"Most  noble  magistroi,  patricians,  and  illustrious 
senators,  we  have  received  a  series  of  despatches  from 
the  august  autocrator  to  the  following  effect:  With 
a  force  of  1 5  7 ,000  men  of  all  arms ,  5  5 ,000  of  whom  were 
mounted,  he  passed  from  Cilicia,  as  already  reported, 
across  the  mountains  into  Syria,  making  straight  for 
Aleppo.  His  sudden  rush  upon  the  country  of  the 
Hamdanites  demoralized  the  enemy,  who  fled  in  every 
direction,  and  left  their  cities  and  forts  an  easy  prey 
to  our  men.  The  terror  of  their  approach  called  out 
such  outbursts  of  fanatical  hate  against  our  holy  faith 
that  it  spread  as  far  as  Jerusalem,  where — it  grieves 
us  to  report — the  patriarch  John  was  savagely  mas- 
sacred with  all  his  priests  and  many  of  his  flock,  and 
the  Church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  with  the  other 
churches  of  Jerusalem,  was  burned  to  ashes." 

At  these  words  groans  of  grief  and  cries  of  rage 
broke  forth  in  the  chamber  from  side  to  side;  and  the 
tribunes  and  corridors  burst  into  yells  of  horror  and 

441 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

passion.  As  soon  as  the  tumult  could  be  appeased, 
Leo  again  resumed  his  speech. 

"But  the  Basileus  has  amply  avenged  the  blood  of 
the  martyrs  and  the  outrage  on  our  faith.  He  has 
gained  a  great  battle  under  the  walls  of  Aleppo. 
Thence  he  ascended  the  valley  of  the  Orontes,  and 
stormed  Maaret  en  Noamen,  that  rich  city  named  after 
one  of  the  companions  of  the  False  Prophet.  Thence 
he  swept  down  upon  Maaret  Mouserim,  on  Kafartab, 
and  Chaizar  and  the  city  of  Hamah.  All  these  rich 
and  splendid  cities  of  Chambdas  have  been  sacked  and 
burned  and  the  mosques  of  the  False  Prophet  de- 
stroyed. The  land  has  been  laid  waste,  and  tens  of 
thousands  of  captives  have  been  carried  off,  with  enor- 
mous masses  of  booty  in  coin,  gems,  valuables,  beasts, 
and  stores." 

Loud  cheers  rang  through  the  hall,  with  cries  of 
"Long  life  to  our  autocjator  Nicephorus,  the  ever- 
victorious!"     Leo  at  last  resumed  his  address. 

"But  we  have  a  still  more  glorious  triumph  to  an- 
nounce. The  ancient  city  of  Emesa,  which  the  Ha- 
garenes  call  Homs,  has  been  captured  and  destroyed. 
The  Basileus  and  his  staff  worshipped  Christ  in  the 
hallowed  and  famous  Church  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 
and  there  they  recovered  that  most  venerable  relic, 
the  head  of  the  divine  forerunner  and  herald  of  the 
Saviour.  This  inestimable  prize  is  now  on  its  way  to 
our  city,  and  will  be  offered  to  the  adoration  of  the 
faithful  in  the  Temple  of  the  Holy  Wisdom." 

At  these  words  there  broke  forth  a  storm  of  shouts 
of  triumph  and  joy.  The  sitting  was  suspended  till 
the  excitement  could  be  calmed,  while  the  patri- 
arch   offered   up   an   invocation    of    thanksgiving   to 

442 


The   Last  Campaign 

God  for  the  mercy  that  He  had  extended  to  His 
people. 

Day  after  day  fresh  successes  were  made  known  by 
the  regents.  The  Basileus  and  his  victorious  troops 
had  now  crossed  the  Lebanon  Mountains  and  were  de- 
scending the  coast  of  Phoenicia.  They  were  again  on 
the  shores  of  the  sea,  and  in  touch  with  the  fleet  at 
hand  to  supply  all  they  needed.  Swift  dromons  now 
brought  round  the  Asian  coast  the  reports  of  the  chief. 
Gabala  fell  to  the  conquerors,  then  Caesarea;  and  next 
Tripoli  was  invested.  After  that  Laodicea  was  made  a 
subject  city  of  the  empire,  and  the  Saracen  emir  was 
transformed  into  an  imperial  commander.  With  Tor- 
tosa  and  Marakieh  the  whole  Phoenician  coast  from 
Tripoli  to  Antioch  was  in  the  power  of  the  Basileus. 
By  the  end  of  the  autumn  the  official  report  informed 
the  people  of  the  empire  "that  eighteen  cities,  each 
having  large  mosques  of  the.  Prophet,  had  been  taken 
by  storm  or  surrendered;  together  with  at  least  one 
hundred  forts,  and  lesser  places  which  the  Basileus 
has  ordered  to  be  levelled  to  the  ground.  Vast  num- 
bers of  the  enemy  have  been  removed  and  taken  as 
prisoners.  In  other  cases,  both  along  Syria  and  the 
coast,  the  inhabitants  have  renounced  the  Prophet, 
and  have  accepted  baptism  and  our  holy  faith.  The 
victorious  Basileus  has  now  closely  invested  Antioch, 
the  'City  of  God,'  as  it  was  once  called,  and  is  about 
to  complete  the  annihilation  of  the  race  of  Chambdas 
and  the  recovery  of  the  Holy  Land  and  the  sepulchre 
of  Christ." 

This  last  and  memorable  campaign  of  Nicephorus  did 
finally  effect  nearly  all  that  its  author  had  designed. 
The  power  of  Islam  in  Syria  and  the  valleys  of  the 

443 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

Orontes  was  broken  for  two  generations.  The  prog- 
ress of  the  Saracen  towards  the  west  was  stayed,  and 
the  safety  of  the  empire  guaranteed  until  the  fatal 
arrival  of  the  Turk.  The  Frank  crusades  had  been 
anticipated  by  more  than  one  hundred  years.  An- 
tioch,  "the  third  city  of  the  world,"  as  Nicephorus 
himself  called  it,  was  ultimately  stormed  and  captured 
by  his  arms,  and  Aleppo  was  taken  by  his  nephew, 
and  became  a  tributary  state;  but  Nicephorus  him- 
self was  not  present  at  either  capture.  In  the  midst 
of  this  series  of  overwhelming  triumphs,  the  most 
brilliant  and  effective  of  his  whole  career,  he  suddenly 
again  returned  to  Byzantium  for  reasons  which  his  peo- 
ple could  not  fathom,  and  which  his  historians  have 
never  explained.  The  cause  was  one  that  touched  his 
honor  and  his  life. 

He  was  completing  the  investment  of  Antioch,  and 
building,  to  blockade  it,  the  vast  rock  fort  of  Bagras, 
carrying  the  stones,  in  order  to  lay  the  foundations,  on 
his  own  shoulder,  to  encourage  his  men  in  the  work, 
when  he  received  from  his  brother  Leo  a  most  mo- 
mentous despatch.  "Great  and  dangerous  intrigues 
had  been  discovered  in  the  palace  itself.  The  empress 
has  been  in  constant  communication  with  John  Tzi- 
misces,  who,  in  spite  of  the  imperial  order  to  remain  in 
the  Cappadocian  theme,  had  secretly  visited  Nico- 
media,  if  not  Byzantium  itself.  John  was  furiously  in- 
veighing against  the  Basileus  for  having  kept  him  in 
the  background,  as  he  declared,  in  inglorious  and 
shameful  retirement.  In  spite  of  the  triumphs  of  the 
imperial  arms,  the  monks  of  the  Stoudion  were  exciting 
the  rabble  of  the  city  and  the  mendicant  hermits  and 
hedge-priests  to  rebellion  and  riot.     Theophano  was 

444 


The  Last  Campaign 

the  soul  of  this  conspiracy;  and,  although  they  had 
failed  as  yet  to  trace  any  criminal  intercourse  between 
her  and  John,  there  were  ominous  signs  that  she  was 
plotting  a  revolution  which  would  place  Tzimisces  on 
the  throne." 

This  terrible  missive  aroused  all  the  indignation  and 
suspicion  in  the  soul  of  Nicephorus  which  he  had 
struggled  to  smother  and  dismiss.  He  felt  the  need 
of  instant  action  to  save  his  government,  his  honor, 
and  his  life.  With  bitter  feelings  he  postponed  all  his 
projects  to  recover  Antioch,  Aleppo,  and  even  Jeru- 
salem and  the  sepulchre  of  Christ.  He  placed  the 
army  of  Antioch  under  the  command  of  General 
Michael  Bourtzes,  a  patrician;  and  he  despatched 
another  army  to  Aleppo  under  command  of  his  own 
nephew,  Petros  Phocas,  son  of  Leo.  Having  made  all 
his  dispositions  for  completing  the  campaign,  Niceph- 
orus took  ship  and  rapidly  returned  to  the  capital  by 
sea. 

The  return  of  the  Basileus  was  so  sudden  and  un- 
expected that  no  signs  of  welcome  had  been  prepared 
to  greet  him.  It  was  the  sour  evening  of  a  dull  day 
when  he  made  his  way  back  to  the  palace,  with  a  very 
small  and  quiet  retinue,  almost  unnoticed.  Even  as 
he  passed  hurriedly  through  the  streets,  he  had  noticed 
monks  and  demagogues  haranguing  small  knots  of 
citizens  on  their  distresses  and  the  cruelty  of  the  gov- 
ernment. Leo  came  down  to  the  port  to  meet  his 
brother.  "The  city,"  he  said,  "is  seething  with  sup- 
pressed resentment  and  discontent.  In  spite  of  all  his 
efforts  and  the  rigors  of  the  police,  disaffection  was 
being  nursed  in  the  monasteries  and  churches,  and 
their  privileges  made  it  too  dangerous  to  prosecute 

445 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

and  punish  the  disturbers  of  the  peace.  Daily  the 
chapels  and  courts  of  the  clergy  resounded  with  in- 
cendiary sermons.  The  official  signs  of  public  rejoic- 
ing had  hardly  concealed  the  apathy  of  the  public  over 
the  successes  of  the  army  in  the  east.  Every  triumph 
was  regarded  as  the  occasion  of  a  new  tax.  And  the 
bad  season  and  the  tempests  with  which  they  had  been 
afflicted  made  the  collection  of  the  revenue  a  constant 
source  of  trouble  and  disorder." 

Nicephorus  listened  to  his  brother's  report  in  silence, 
patient,  unmoved,  and  resolute.  He  pondered  it  with- 
out a  word,  with  no  sign  of  anger  or  of  fear.  At  last 
he  said,  slowly,  forcing  his  lips  to  utter  the  words  to 
which  he  dreaded  the  answer,  "Brother,  tell  me  of 
her. ' ' 

Leo  grasped  his  brother's  hand,  and  he  bent  over 
it  as  he  replied  in  a  whisper:  "Sire,  I  obey,  though  I 
shrink  from  the  task.  She  is  conspiring  against  you. 
We  seized  a  secret  messenger  of  hers  to  John.  We 
found  on  him  a  document  urging  Tzimisces  to  come 
to  the  palace  to  confer  with  herself  and  her  privy 
council.  Our  officers  wrung  from  the  messenger  at 
last  that  he  was  charged  with  verbal  assurances  of  a 
new  marriage  and  promises  of  a  lavish  kind." 

Nicephorus  writhed  silently,  but  said  no  word  for  a 
space.  Then  he  asked,  "What,  then,  of  Tzimisces 
himself?" 

"  We  have  not  been  able  to  obtain  any  evidence  that 
John  has  listened  to  these  overtures;  nor  can  it  be 
proved  that  they  have  yet  reached  him.  But  Tzi- 
misces is  a  traitor,  your  enemy,  your  supplanter.  Seize 
him,  blind  or  execute  him.  Seize  and  deport  her. 
They  will  be  your  ruin,  if  not  your  death." 

446 


The  Last  Campaign 

Nicephorus  took  no  such  action.  He  who  had  swept 
Islam  before  him  from  the  Phoenician  coast  to  the 
Euphrates,  he  who  was  the  idol  of  the  most  powerful 
army  of  that  age,  he  who  had  found  the  civil  and 
military  organization  of  all  Asia  work  in  his  hand  like 
a  perfect  machine,  cared  little  for  the  discontent  of 
the  luxurious  nobles  of  the  capital,  and  still  less  for 
the  idle  mobs  of  the  forum.  And,  conscious  of  his 
burning  zeal  in  the  cause  of  Christendom,  and  his  vast 
services  to  the  people  of  God,  he  cared  little  for  the  in- 
trigues and  anger  of  the  churchmen.  Patriarch  and 
abbot  might  be  unjust.  But  Christ  and  His  Mother 
would  intercede  for  him  at  the  mercy-seat  of  the 
Almighty. 

Even  now  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  believe  in 
the  treason  of  John,  and  he  shrank  from  condemning 
him  without  convincing  proof.  He  even  suffered 
Theophano  to  justify  herself,  and  to  refute  all  the  ac- 
cusations of  her  enemies.  She  burst  into  the  privy 
chamber  of  her  husband,  as  he  strode  up  and  down 
in  thought,  swayed  with  contending  emotions  and 
racked  with  doubts.  She  dragged  in  her  little  Basil, 
and  made  him  prostrate  himself  before  the  Basileus, 
and  kiss  his  father's  hand,  and,  rising  in  an  attitude  of 
superb  majesty,  with  a  voice  that  the  greatest  actress 
would  envy,  she  broke  forth: 

"You  will  not  believe,  my  lord,  my  lover,  my  glory, 
that  I  who  raised  you  to  this  throne,  and  saved  your 
life  when  the  masters  of  this  palace  were  thirsting  for 
your  blood — that  I  could  be  seeking  to  injure  you  at 
the  highest  hour  of  your  triumph.  Who  could  pro- 
tect my  boys,  and  secure  them  the  throne  of  their  an- 
cestors, if  you  were   cast  out   before  they  were  old 

447 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

enough  to  act  for  themselves  ?  Their  inheritance, 
their  liberty — nay,  their  lives,  are  in  jeopardy  if  you 
their  father  were  gone.  What  would  become  of  me 
if  they  put  you  away  ?  Could  you  bear,  my  Nicephorus, 
to  see  me  in  prison,  in  a  cell,  in  the  veil  and  garb  of  a 
nun  ?  Could  you  bear  to  think  of  me  growing  old  in 
misery  and  want  ?  Have  you  ceased  to  love  me,  to 
feel  for  me?     Do  you  hate  me?" 

Nicephorus  looked  steadily  at  Theophano  with  pro- 
found sorrow  and  reproach,  gazing  at  her  as  if  he  was 
searching  the  depths  of  her  soul.  But  he  spoke  not 
a  word.  The  woman  shrank  down  before  him  and 
clasped  his  hand. 

"I  swear  before  the  Mother  of  God  that  what  they 
say  of  me  is  false.  I  have  never  sinned  against  you. 
Your  brother  Leo  is  a  bitter  enemy  of  me  and  of 
Tzimisces.  He  envies  his  glory,  he  seeks  to  poison 
your  heart  and  to  destroy  us  both.  The  greatest 
soldier  of  Rome  next  to  you  has  been  cruelly  maligned 
and  ill-used.  Yes!  I  grieve  to  see  him  caged  like  a 
wild  beast  when  he  would  be  your  best  and  truest 
comrade.  I  admit  that  I  have  sought  to  restore  him 
to  his  true  place.  I  have  not  seen  him — but — yes! — 
I  have  been  in  communication  with  him.  But  for 
what  purpose?  My  own  beloved  friend,  the  Lady 
Hypatia  Palseologos,  may  be  persuaded  to  accept  him 
as  a  husband,  now  that  he  is  a  lonely  widower.  John 
presses  his  suit,  but  her  family  have  other  views.  My 
own  messages  to  John  were  to  urge  him  to  come  and 
win  the  lady  himself.  But  your  stern  orders  to  keep 
him  caged  in  Cappadocia  have  prevented  him  from 
approaching  the  city.  Countermand  this,  my  lord. 
Bring  your  best  general  back  to  your  side.     Let  us 

448 


The   Last  Campaign 

marry  him  to  this  noble  and  beautiful  woman  whom  I 
love  as  a  sister  myself.  And  then  send  John  to  com- 
mand an  army  in  Syria.  Yield  me  this,  my  king, 
my  lover,  my  husband.  John  is  true,  as  I  am  true. 
Do  not  listen  to  the  falsehoods  of  our  enemies  —  to 
those  who  seek  to  displace  us  in  your  trust  and  in  your 
love." 

And  she  clasped  him,  and  sank  upon  his  neck  in 
tears. 

Slowly,  quietly,  but  resolutely,  Nicephorus  unclasp- 
ed the  woman's  hands,  and  stood  musing  silently  and 
sadly.  At  last  he  said,  "John  Tzimisces  shall  be  sum- 
moned to  me.  I  will  hear  what  he  has  to  say  from 
his  own  lips." 

Tzimisces  was  summoned,  but  no  reconciliation  was 
effected.  He  furiously  denied  all  traitorous  machina- 
tions against  the  throne,  and  made  blunt  denial  of  any 
interviews  with  Theophano.  He  then  inveighed  with 
passion  against  the  orders  to  keep  him  in  retirement. 
A  violent  scene  ensued,  and  the  old  friends  and  com- 
rades parted  in  wrath.  Nicephorus  found  Tzimisces 
to  be  mutinous,  if  not  in  actual  revolt.  He  placed 
him  in  arrest  on  the  Asian  frontier  across  the  Pro- 
pontis. 

The  Basileus  was  preparing  to  return  to  the  front 
when  despatches  arrived  with  the  startling  news  that 
General  Bourtzes  had  stormed  Antioch  and  was  mas- 
ter of  the  great  city  and  all  its  contents  and  resources. 
Great  rejoicings  were  ordered  by  the  official  world, 
and  Nicephorus  attended  the  ceremony  of  thanks- 
giving in  the  cathedral  with  great  pomp.  And  the 
news  was  hardly  made  public,  when  fresh  despatches 
announced   that   the   emir   of   Aleppo,    despairing   of 

449 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

overcoming  Petros  Phocas,  was  ready  to  make  his  sub- 
mission and  to  become  the  tributary  and  satrap  of 
the  Basileus  of  Roum. 

Nicephorus  Phocas  was  now  at  the  culmination  of 
his  great  crusade  against  Islam.  His  arms  had 
triumphed  everywhere,  and  for  two  generations  the 
Moslem  advance  was  effectually  repelled.  The  gov- 
ernment made  every  effort  to  celebrate  these  triumphs, 
and  Bourtzes  was  about  to  be  received  with  honors 
and  rewards  when  Leo's  agents  discovered  that  he  also 
had  been  engaged  in  a  new  conspiracy  into  which 
Tzimisces  and  others  had  been  drawn  by  Theophano 
herself.  Thus  Bourtzes  was  disgraced  and  dismissed 
from  office.  Much  as  the  people  of  Byzantium  loved 
pageants  and  public  rejoicings,  their  irritation  at  the 
pressure  of  taxation  and  the  machinations  of  the 
monks  increased  rather  than  allayed  the  general  dis- 
content. And  all  the  efforts  of  Leo,  the  curopalate, 
and  the  rest  of  the  ministers  failed  to  rekindle  the 
national  enthusiasm. 

In  the  vain  hope  of  touching  the  public  mind,  they 
caused  the  venerable  Bardas  Phocas  to  be  carried 
round  in  the  constant  services  and  Te  Dcums  which 
were  sung  in  the  churches.  He  was  now  more  than 
ninety  years  of  age;  and  as  his  snow-white  head  on 
his  shrivelled  body  was  borne  along  in  the  crowds,  he 
seemed  to  be  a  corpse  being  carried  to  a  tomb,  rather 
than  the  living  remnant  of  a  hero  whose  name  lived  in 
every  field  of  Asian  warfare. 

But  the  strain  was  too  much  for  the  last  flicker  of 
the  veteran's  spirit.  He  was  borne  back  fainting  to 
the  palace  and  laid  on  the  couch  from  which  he  never 
rose   again.     Nicephorus   watched   long  hours   beside 

45° 


The  Last  Campaign 

his  father,  in  hopes  of  having  some  last  words  that  he 
could  remember  before  they  were  parted  forever. 

On  the  third  day  some  signs  of  life  returned.  The 
old  man  opened  his  eyes  and  saw  his  glorious  son. 
He  faintly  smiled  and  said,  "I  go  hence  with  joy  and 
thankfulness  of  heart;  Rome  lives,  and  for  evermore 
shall  live.  The  people  of  Christ  have  risen  from  their 
long  night  of  defeat.  Farewell,  my  son;  I  go  to  tell 
the  martyrs  that  their  deaths  are  avenged."  The  smile 
settled  on  his  lips.  The  veteran  was  dead.  The  Basil- 
eus  bent  down  and  kissed  the  lifeless  forehead  of  his 
sire.  He  felt  alone — at  peace — with  his  work  on  earth 
completed. 


XXXI 

The  Last  Agony 

THE  long  funeral  procession  had  now  returned  to 
the  Sacred  Palace  from  the  Church  of  the  Holy 
Apostles  in  the  same  order  and  in  all  the  solemn  mag- 
nificence with  which  the  patriarch  Bardas  had  been 
laid  to  his  rest.  The  emperor,  with  his  robes  of  state 
concealed  in  an  ample  black  cloak,  strode  on  in  proud 
and  moody  silence  through  the  gorgeous  halls  which 
now  seemed  to  him  to  mock  his  despair.  As  he  fol- 
lowed the  coffin  of  his  father  to  the  sepulchre,  he  had 
heard  the  muttered  curses  of  the  mob  which  thronged 
the  streets;  and  even  as  he  had  lifted  with  his  own 
hands  the  shrunken  corpse  of  his  heroic  sire  and  laid 
it  reverently  in  the  royal  sarcophagus  wherein  it  was 
to  iie — eVen  as  he  took  his  last  gaze  on  his  father's 
face  and  covered  it  with  the  consecrated  cloth  forever 
— Nicephorus  saw  hatred  and  vengeance  around  him 
in  the  eyes  of  the  monks  and  priests  within  the  shrine. 
He  knew  himself  now  to  be  a  man  hated,  deserted, 
and  betrayed — most  unjustly,  most  cruelly — in  spite 
of  all  that  he  had  done  for  the  state  and  for  the  peo- 
ple. But  he  marched  along  through  the  lowering  yet 
cringing  mob  with  an  air  of  haughty  defiance  and 
resolute  purpose,  till  he  had  completed  his  part  in  the 
great  ceremonial.     The  guard  of  honor  filed  aside  at 

452 


The   Last  Agony 

the  court-yard  and  drew  up  at  the  porch ;  the  officers 
of  state  and  great  dignitaries  prostrated  themselves  in 
due  turn  and  took  their  way  apart.  Slowly  the  crowd 
of  chamberlains,  nobles-in-waiting,  priests,  secretaries, 
and  ministers  in  their  order  of  rank  made  their  obei- 
sance and  quitted  the  sovereign  as  he  passed  to  the 
private  chambers  of  the  palace. 

In  silence  and  gloom  the  emperor  stalked  on,  with 
but  formal  acknowledgments  of  the  endless  obeisances 
he  received  from  the  train,  till  he  reached  the  inmost 
chambers  of  the  vast  palace,  accompanied  now  by 
none  but  his  confessor,  his  brother  Leo,  the  chief  cham- 
berlain, and  two  body  servants  of  his  household.  Here 
at  last  the  strength  of  the  chief  seemed  utterly  ex- 
hausted. They  took  from  him  his  cloak  of  mourn- 
ing, his  diadem  and  sword  of  state,  blazing  with  pre- 
cious stones;  they  unlaced  the  imperial  buskins  and 
the  golden  mail  in  which  he  was  encased.  He  seemed 
eager  to  fling  from  off  him  his  royal  trappings.  And 
at  last,  in  the  rough  shirt  which  he  ever  chose  to  wear 
beneath  his  robes,  bareheaded,  unshod,  the  mighty 
Basileus  of  Rome  sank  onto  a  couch  with  a  groan  and 
covered  his  face  with  his  massive,  sunburned  hands. 

Long  the  attendants  watched  their  master  in  per- 
plexity and  fear.  He  spoke  not,  nor  gave  any  sign. 
At  length  his  brother  Leo,  presuming  on  their  kinship 
and  his  own  high  office,  broke  silence  and  vent- 
ured to  remonstrate  with  his  terrible  chief.  "By  the 
Mother  of  God,  most  august  autocrator,  we  adjure 
you  to  shake  off  grief  and  take  heed  of  the  mani- 
fold perils  that  surround  your  throne  and  life.  We 
have  reached  the  third  month,  foretold  as  fatal  by 
the  mysterious  hermit  who  flung  the  paper  into  your 

453 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

lap  in  the  porch  of  Hagia  Sophia.  All  our  efforts  to 
trace  him  have  failed,  and  we  now  believe  him  to  have 
been  a  conspirator  in  disguise  luring  you  on  to  your 
doom.  You  are  surrounded  with  traitors,  intrigues, 
and  plots.  And  the  nearest  to  you  of  all  may  be  con- 
senting to  them."  But  here  a  groan,  smothered  by 
the  clinched  hands  of  the  Basileus  himself,  checked 
Leo's  words.  The  emperor  raised  his  head,  glared 
on  his  brother  like  a  lion  at  bay,  but  spoke  not,  and 
again  covered  his  face  and  sank  upon  his  couch.  After 
some  minutes  of  awed  silence,  the  curopalate  resumed: 
"My  duty  to  your  Majesty  compels  me  to  unravel  all 
the  plots  that  are  being  hatched  against  you,  all  the 
omens  and  portents  which  threaten  your  star.  The 
eclipse  of  last  week,  which  your  Imperial  Majesty 
treats  with  just  contempt,  has  spread  panic,  suspicion, 
and  treason  throughout  the  realm.  The  storm  of  last 
night,  wherein  our  hero-father  passed  away,  has  des- 
olated the  towns  of  Propontis  and  has  covered  its 
shores  with  wrecks.  I  hear  to-day  of  the  earthquake 
in  Asia  Minor  whereby  whole  provinces  have  been  cov- 
ered with  ruins  and  dead  bodies.  The  tale  of  calam- 
ities and  omens  will  be  shown  your  Majesty  by  the 
great  chamberlain  here,  who  has  been  furnished  with 
particulars.  And  while  the  provinces  are  languishing 
and  restless,  the  city  is  a  hotbed  of  treason,  rebellion, 
and  intrigue.  And  of  all  this  the  author  and  head  is 
no  other  than  your  false  lieutenant  and  rival,  the  Ar- 
menian, John,  the  deadly  foe  of  our  house,  who 
aspires  to  your  throne — nay,  to  your — "  But  so 
fierce  a  spasm  shook  the  frame  of  the  emperor,  and 
his  gaze  upon  his  brother  was  at  once  so  terrible  and 
yet  so  tragic,  that  Leo  dared  not  finish  his  sentence. 

454 


The   Last  Agony 

Nicephorus  spoke  not,  but  he  stretched  forth  his  hand 
with  a  sign  of  impatience  and  fatigue.  Leo,  on  bended 
knee,  took  his  brother's  hand,  pressed  it  to  his  lips,  and 
withdrew. 

A  long  silence  followed  till  the  great  chamberlain, 
conceiving  himself  appealed  to  by  the  emperor's 
brother,  ventured  to  approach  his  master.  "Will  not 
your  mightiness  deign  to  listen  to  the  report  I  hold 
in  my  hands  of  the  dangerous  signs  which  man  and 
the  saints  are  holding  up  to  our  eyes  ?  I  have  here 
the  particulars  of  riots  in  fourteen  provinces,  the  holy 
places  destroyed  by  the  earthquake,  and  the  state- 
ments of  priests,  soldiers,  and  officers  of  the  empire  as 
to  the  imminent  rebellion.  Will  your  Majesty  be 
pleased  to  hear  the  story  of  their  fears  and  their  warn- 
ings?" The  Basileus  groaned  again,  but  spoke  not. 
He  slowly  shook  his  head,  waved  back  his  hand,  and 
the  high  chamberlain  retired  with  the  usual  prostra- 
tions and  forms  of  reverence. 

The  confessor  still  stood  his  ground  beside  his  im- 
perious penitent.  The  venerable  monk  Zachariah  was 
renowned  throughout  the  empire  for  his  austere  piety 
and  martyr-like  sufferings  for  Christ's  sake,  and  was 
one  of  the  few  monks  for  whom  Nicephorus  had  real 
esteem  and  trust.  He  motioned  to  the  attendants  to 
withdraw,  and  in  a  voice  of  deep  emotion  he  said: 
"Mighty  lord,  hear  the  words  of  me  who  am  but  a 
worm  in  thy  sight,  as  thou  art  but  a  worm  in  the  sight 
of  God.  Thy  perils  are  many  and  great,  but  thy  sins 
also  are  many  and  great.  Thou  hast  committed  dead- 
ly sin  in  taking  to  wife  the  widow  of  a  dead  man  to 
whose  child  thou  art  father-in-God,  a  woman  who 
would  enter  a  third  adulterous  marriage  if  she  were 

30  455 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

rid  of  thee.  Thou  hast  robbed  the  churches  and  the 
patrimonies  of  monks  and  priests  to  carry  on  thy 
endless  wars  at  the  distant  frontiers  of  this  realm. 
Make  peace  with  thy  enemies,  and  cease  in  thy  old 
age  to  be  a  man  of  blood.  Restore  to  the  churches 
and  monasteries  the  wealth  that  thy  tax-gatherers 
have  wrung  from  Holy  Church.  Put  away  the  adul- 
terous, the  infidel,  the  harlot  who  lies  beside  thee  and 
pollutes  thy  soul.  And  the  Mother  of  God  will  yet 
intercede  that  you  may  be  kept  safe  in  His  holy  keep- 
ing." The  emperor  sat  silent  and  motionless  as  a 
stone.  And,  without  a  word  more  from  penitent  or 
confessor,  Zachariah  raised  his  hands  to  heaven  in 
attitude  of  prayer,  and  slowly,  without  a  gesture  pass- 
ing between  them,  he  withdrew  from  the  presence. 

Then  the  emperor  raised  his  head,  with  a  look  of 
fierce  passion,  struggling  to  be  calm.  With  the  old 
voice  of  command,  as  he  had  so  often  ordered  a  last 
charge  on  a  bloody  field,  he  said,  "Leave  me!  begone 
all!  Set  double  guards  at  the  doors  of  this  chamber, 
and  till  I  call  again  let  no  man  pass  into  this  place — 
no  man,  on  pain  of  death — no!  and  no  woman  either. 
I  have  spoken.     I  choose  to  be  alone  this  night!" 

When  the  doors  were  closed  and  all  lights  extin- 
guished, save  the  lamp  that  burned  night  and  day  be- 
fore the  ikon  of  the  Theotokos,  Nicephorus  rose  and 
turned  towards  the  image  of  the  Virgin.  With  bare 
head,  bare  arms  and  feet,  in  his  rude  camp-shirt,  he 
looked  in  the  dim  light  like  some  hermit  in  a  rocky 
cave  by  the  Thessalonican  coast.  His  face  was  hag- 
gard and  drawn  with  sorrow  and  care.  His  weary 
eyes  drooped  in  their  dark,  cavernous  rings.  His  white 
hair  and  grizzled  beard  contrasted  strangely  with  his 

456 


The  Last  Agony- 
swarthy  skin,  tanned  with  the  suns  and  scarred  with 
the  storms  of  Asia  over  fifty  years,  but  his  huge  frame 
and  shaggy  limbs  gave  him  still  the  majestic  air  of 
a  veteran  chief.  He  flung  himself  down  before  the 
miraculous  image,  kissed  the  feet  of  the  Divine  Mother, 
and  groaned  forth  this  prayer: 

"Hear  me,  hear  me,  Mary,  Mother  of  God,  and 
turn  the  heart  of  thy  Son  to  listen  to  the  outpouring 
of  my  soul.  I  acknowledge  my  offences  towards  men 
and  Mother  Church,  and  my  sins  of  bloodshed  and 
wrath  burn  into  my  memory  like  red-hot  irons.  But 
Thou  knowest,  0  God  of  Mercy  and  Judgment,  for  what 
end  were  wrought  all  my  sins  of  slaughter  and  of  pun- 
ishment. If  I  have  lived  with  the  sword  in  my  right 
hand  and  have  waded  through  torrents  of  human 
blood  from  my  childhood  upward,  Thou  knowest  that 
it  was  in  defence  of  Christian  people  against  infidels, 
heretics,  and  barbarians.  If  I  slew,  it  was  those  who 
would  have  slain  Thy  beloved  and  faithful  people,  the 
priests  of  Thy  altars,  and  the  mothers  of  children 
baptized  in  Thy  faith.  Sinner  as  I  am,  Thou  wilt  not 
forget  that  my  right  arm  has  saved  Thy  holy  city, 
this  realm  of  Rome,  and  Thy  orthodox  Church,  planted 
by  Thy  Son  to  save  this  heathen  world.  And  the 
offerings  that  I  pressed  from  the  wealth  of  Mother 
Church  were  never  taken  for  me  or  for  mine,  O  Lord! 
but  to  arm  my  soldiers  in  their  war  with  the  False 
Prophet." 

So  groaned  out  his  confession  of  sins  this  fierce, 
proud  soldier  and  ruler.  Even  in  the  act  of  acknowl- 
edging his  offences  and  seeking  for  pity  from  the 
Throne  of  Mercy,  the  consciousness  of  all  his  achieve- 
ments and  the  sense  of  his  supreme  mastery  of  the 

457 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

empire  made  his  look  fire  up  with  the  pride  of  com- 
mander, ruler,  and  despot.  And  as  the  feeling  of  his 
abandonment  and  wrongs  burst  full  on  his  thoughts, 
he  sank  down  prostrate  before  the  image  of  the  Virgin 
Mother. 

"Thou  only  knowest,  O  most  holy  and  loving  of 
those  above — thou  only  knowest  how  lonely  and  for- 
lorn is  he  whom  men  call  the  mighty  Autocrator  of 
Rome.  All,  all,  have  forsaken  me.  My  heroic  father, 
the  last  pillar  of  our  house,  is  laid  in  the  grave,  whence 
at  my  death  he  may  be  torn  again  and  dishonored. 
Him  only  could  I  trust.  My  brother — whom  I  have 
loaded  with  honors  and  gifts,  works  now  for  himself, 
and  would  spur  me  on  to  crush  his  rival,  the  Armenian 
John.  The  hatred  of  the  people  has  been  drawn  down 
on  me  by  him.  Help,  pity,  0  Mother  of  God,  the  most 
lonely  and  abandoned  of  all  those  who  truly  serve  and 
call  on  thee.  Virgin  most  pure,  most  perfect,  most 
holy,  thou  wilt  not  forsake  him  who  has  ever  held  thy 
image  in  his  heart,  who  from  his  youth  up  has  sinned 
not  in  the  flesh — sinned  not  unless  thou  countest  it 
sin  to  love  her  whom  Holy  Church  has  blessed  and 
consecrated  to  be  bone  of  my  bone." 

The  last  words  seemed  wrung  from  the  clinched 
lips  of  the  chief  as  if  they  were  blood  strained  from  his 
veins.  And  he  groaned  out  the  phrase  "blessed  and 
consecrated  to  be  bone  of  my  bone"  with  prolonged 
spasm  of  rage  and  pain,  as  if  they  were  words  wrung 
from  him  on  the  rack.  The  mighty  frame  of  the  hero 
was  convulsed  with  tremors  and  fierce  clinching  of 
the  limbs.  He  fell  prone  on  the  ground  and  sobbed 
and  groaned  in  silence. 

"Holy  Mother  of  God,"  he  muttered  at  length,  "is 
458 


The  Last  Agony 

it  indeed  a  sin  to  love  a  woman,  to  desire  her  to  wife? 
Then  truly  have  I  sinned  as  none  ever  sinned  before. 
I  was  a  man  in  years  and  in  high  place  and  power 
when  I  first  saw  her.  From  that  hour  I  was  her  slave 
— melting  like  wax  at  her  sight,  trembling  in  her  pres- 
ence, thrilled  to  the  bone  at  the  sound  of  her  voice. 
Never  in  my  life,  as  thou  knowest,  O  most  Holy  Mother, 
has  woman  beguiled  me;  and  but  for  her  I  am  spotless 
as  this  ancient  hermit  who  condemns  me.  My  sin 
was  to  have  taken  to  wife  her  to  whose  child  I  was 
father-in-God.  The  holy  fathers  have  pronounced  on 
me  this  judgment;  and,  in  my  passion,  I  have  visited 
my  wrath  upon  them.  Forgive,  forgive  this  offence, 
which  comes  from  excess  of  love.  Forgive — even  as 
He  on  earth  forgave  one  who  had  loved  much.  Am 
I  not  stricken  enough  for  this  sin  ?  She  loves  me  not, 
has  never  loved  me.  Holy  Mother!  She  loathes  me 
and  no  longer  seeks  to  hide  it  from  me.  She  loves 
some  other —  Whom  ?  Has  she  betrayed  me  in  deed 
as  she  has  in  thought  ?  Can  it  be  ?  Teach  me,  open  my 
eyes — thou  knowest,  O  Holy  and  Immaculate  Virgin, 
thou  knowest  if  she  be  false  in  body  as  in  heart.  I 
cannot  watch  her;  I  dare  not  pry  and  probe  into  my 
shame  like  a  cuckold  huckster.  She  may  be  false, 
but  I  will  never  stoop  to  suspect.  The  wife  of  Caesar 
must  be  untouched  by  evil  fame  —  untouched  —  ay, 
or  dead.  It  is  agony  enough  to  know  that  she  loves 
me  not — she  loathes  me,  O  God! — and  I  love  her  madly 
still.  Holy  Mother,  as  thou  knowest,  I  have  forsworn 
her  bed — never  in  life  will  I  touch  woman  where  love 
is  not,  or  is  not  from  each  to  each.  I  tremble  still  in 
her  sight.  Holy  Mother,  teach  me  if  I  must  still  en- 
dure this  pain— if  I  have  thy  command  to  put  her 

459 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

away  as  the  false  ones  are  left  alone  with  Thee  and 
the  saints." 

Hour  after  hour  the  stricken  Caesar  poured  forth 
these  prayers  and  lamentations  in  spasms  of  agony 
and  broken  groans,  stretched  on  the  ground  and  grind- 
ing his  teeth  in  his  wrath  and  madness.  At  length, 
exhausted  nature  could  endure  no  more.  The  long 
vigils  by  his  dying  father's  side,  the  fatigue  of  the 
funeral  ceremonies,  the  terrible  conflict  of  the  last 
few  hours,  and  the  ecstasy  of  confession  and  of  prayer 
broke  down  the  herculean  strength  of  the  veteran,  and 
he  sank  into  a  lethargic  slumber  before  the  image  of 
the  Virgin. 

Slowly  and  silently  a  small  and  secret  panel  in  the 
gilded  recess  of  the  great  chamber  was  cautiously 
opened,  enough  to  admit  the  hand  of  a  woman.  And 
as  the  measured  breathing  of  the  Caesar  announced 
that  he  was  not  waking,  the  door  was  gently  opened, 
and  the  empress,  in  all  the  fascination  of  her  chamber 
adornment,  stood  motionless  before  her  lord.  She 
was  disrobed  for  the  night,  arrayed  in  half -trans- 
parent silken  sheen;  her  exquisite  limbs  shining  like 
alabaster  as  the  masses  of  her  dark  tresses  were  folded 
over  her  bare  neck  and  shoulders.  She  looked  more 
lovely  thus  than  in  all  her  imperial  robes  and  jewels. 
Long  she  stood  in  silence,  looking  down  on  her  sleep- 
ing husband,  with  a  bitter  smile  playing  round  her 
chiselled  lips  and  the  hate  of  a  tigress  in  the  gleam 
of  her  lustrous  eyes.  Then  she  stooped  low  over  him, 
till  her  loosened  locks  fell  from  around  her  bosom  upon 
his,  and,  with  a  kiss  soft  as  rose-leaves  and  warm  as 
sunlight  on  his  brow,  she  roused  the  Caesar  from  his 
slumber.     He  rose  from  the  floor  with  a  look  so  dazed 

460 


The   Last  Agony 

and  yet  so  terrible  that  the  woman  shrank  back,  still 
smiling,  still  enticing,  and  yet  afraid  to  speak. 

"What!"  he  cried,  with  a  fierce  voice,  "have  my 
guards,  too,  betrayed  me,  or  how  did  you  pass,  when 
I  had  ordered  no  living  soul  to  come  hither,  while  I 
watched  and  prayed,  after  all  the  toils  I  have  borne?" 

"Caesar  would  not  shut  out  Caesar's  wife  from  his 
side  at  such  a  time  as  this,"  she  answered,  with  a  subtle 
glance  in  dulcet  tones;  "and  they  did  not  guard  the 
secret  door  of  passage  between  our  private  chambers. 
Nor  yet,"  she  added,  as  he  spoke  not,  "will  her  hero, 
her  master,  her  lover,  leave  his  Theophano  in  such 
a  night  to  be  sleepless,  lonely,  disconsolate  —  for- 
saken." 

Caesar  turned  his  head  away  from  the  maddening 
sight  of  the  woman  he  loved  so  passionately,  and  yet 
believed  so  profoundly  to  be  false ;  he  turned  his  head 
from  her,  closed  his  eyes  again,  and  groaned  a  deep 
sigh  that  seemed  to  shake  his  breast. 

But  the  wily  Delilah  saw  the  trembling  round  the 
mouth  of  Caesar  and  the  yearning  of  love  in  his  eyes, 
even  as  he  had  turned  from  her  with  a  gesture  of  dis- 
dain, and  she  pressed  the  advantage  which  she  knew 
that  she  retained. 

"Will  the  Majesty  of  Rome  and  the  Terror  of  the 
Infidel  be  tutored  and  frightened  by  these  designing 
priests  and  their  unmanly  superstitions  ?  I  know  that 
they  have  put  a  bar  between  thee  and  me,  and  in 
their  insolence  have  torn  thee  from  the  side  of  thy 
true  and  loving  wife.  What  do  these  holy  eunuchs 
know  of  marriage  and  of  all  the  peace  which  the  loving 
wife  gives  to  the  soul  of  the  lord  who  loves  her?  Is 
the  Basileus  of  the  World,  too,  a  weakling,  like  the 

461 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

slaves  who  haunt  his  palace  and  the  priests  who  whine 
in  his  shrine?" 

She  saw  how  the  sovereign  writhed  and  glowered 
at  such  unseemly  words,  and  she  shrieked  forth: 
"  What !  do  they  insult  me,  too ! — do  they  seek  to  poison 
your  mind ! — do  they  tell  you  that  I  am  no  true  wife, 
that  I  have  ceased  to  love  you !  Would  they  see  me  not 
only  abandoned  by  my  lord  but  suspected  of  crime! 
Holy  Mother,  can  they  have  dared  such  infamy? 
Caesar,  husband,  lover,  my  hero,  my  saint,  am  I  not 
your  only  love?  Have  I  not  forsaken  all  things  for 
you  ? — have  I  not  made  you  Lord  of  the  World  ? — have 
I  not  loved  you  madly  ? — do  I  not  love  you  now  more 
passionately  than  when  I  was  first  your  slave  and 
lover  ?  Come  to  me  again,  let  me  wind  my  arms  round 
you  and  nurse  you  to  rest  after  all  that  you  have  suf- 
fered. Nicephorus,  hero,  lover,  I  have  borne  many 
things  for  thee!  I  have  risked  my  liberty,  my  honor, 
my  life — even  the  lives  of  my  sons — certainly  their 
thrones!  Thy  enemies  wait  for  thee.  My  enemies 
watch  for  me.  Thou  and  I  united  can  defy  them, 
but  divided  we  may  both  perish  at  their  hands!" 
And  she  stooped  down  again  over  him,  like  a  crouch- 
ing leopard  over  its  prey,  till  the  silken  drapery  almost 
slid  from  off  her  faultless  and  dazzling  form,  and  he 
could  feel  the  warmth  of  her  skin  and  the  perfume 
of  her  tresses.  So  fawning  and  almost  purring  over 
his  motionless  body,  again  she  softly  kissed  his  rugged 
brow,  and  then  gently,  like  a  beautiful  sylph  in  the 
dim  light,  she  stole  away  in  silence,  just  whispering 
in  tones  of  liquid  tenderness  and  passion,  "Come  to 
me,  my  lover,  come!" 

Caesar  spoke  no  word,  but  when  he  knew  himself  to 
462 


The  Last  Agony 

be  alone  he  rose,  and,  with  a  groan,  he  passed  to  the 
secret  door  in  the  panel  which  Theophano  had  left 
ajar.  He  gently  but  firmly  closed  it — it  had  no  bolt  or 
fastening  on  the  side  within — and  he  paced  the  cham- 
ber in  moody  silence  and  grim  contortion  of  face. 
Then  he  summoned  an  attendant. 

"Place  double  guards  at  the  portal  of  this  chamber. 
Let  none  enter  on  pain  of  death.  Leave  me.  I  pass 
the  night  here,  alone." 

The  attendant  was  preparing  for  the  night  the  im- 
perial bed,  when  the  emperor  broke  forth  on  him: 

"No — not  there.  I  sleep  in  no  bed,  but  as  I  have 
so  long  slept  in  my  camp,  on  the  floor.  Place  in  this 
dark  corner  hard  by  beneath  the  image  of  Theotokos 
the  panther's  skin  which  I  have  had  from  my  father, 
whereon  the  hero  was  wont  to  sleep.  Here,  I  say,  give 
me  my  arms — at  least  my  sword  and  dagger.  Place 
them  as  of  old,  on  the  beast's  skin." 

"Will  your  Majesty  choose  to  have  them  brought.'' 
Her  Imperial  Majesty  bade  them  take  sword  and  dag- 
.ger  to  her  own  chamber,  and  they  lie  beside  the  great 
couch." 

"Leave  them!  Leave  me!  Give  me  the  conse- 
crated cloak  of  the  ancient  hermit.  So!  I  will  fold 
it  round  me,  for  it  has  powers  to  ward  off  evil.     Go!" 

Folded  in  the  consecrated  robe  of  the  saint,  Ni- 
cephorus  flung  himself  again  on  the  floor  before  the 
crucifix  and  sobbed  forth  in  broken  whisperings  his 
last  prayer: 

"Son  of  God,  who  died  for  sinners,  who  now  at  the 
right  hand  of  the  Father  seest  the  most  secret  things 
of  every  heart,  look  down  into  my  tortured  soul,  and 
judge  me  in  Thy  justice  and  mercy !     If  I  have  loved 

463 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

an  unworthy  woman,  it  was  in  love  and  honor  that  I 
yielded  myself  to  her  power.  Thou  only  knowest  how 
false  she  is,  and  Thou  knowest  all  that  I  have  borne 
at  her  hands,  that  I  have  done  her  no  wrong  nor  have 
sought  to  visit  on  her  or  hers  my  just  indignation  and 
wrath.  If  I  still  desire  to  live  and  to  reign,  Thou 
knowest  that  my  life  is  given  to  maintain  this  Chris- 
tian realm,  to  beat  off  the  heathen  who  rage  round  it 
to  destroy  and  pollute  Thy  people.  If  my  life  may  yet 
help  Thy  Church  and  Thy  realm,  keep  me  alive  still, 
albeit  in  agony  and  despair.  If  my  death  may  ad- 
vance Thy  inscrutable  purpose,  O  God,  let  my  blood 
be  shed  for  men  even  as  was  Thine  own,  though  I  be 
the  vilest  of  Thy  created  beings.  Thy  will  be  done, 
Thy  Kingdom  come!" 

Long  in  the  dark  hours  of  night  the  emperor  wrestled 
in  spirit  with  his  Maker.  And  then,  rolling  round  him 
the  shaggy  and  tattered  mantle  of  the  holy  man,  he 
lay  down  upon  the  panther's  hide  on  the  floor,  and  at 
last  sank  exhausted  in  profound  sleep. 


XXXII 

Clytemnestra 

A  STORM  more  fierce  than  any  in  that  winter  of 
storms  was  raging  over  the  city  and  the  Sacred 
Palace.  Furious  gusts  from  the  north  swept  over  the 
Euxine  and  coursed  down  the  Bosphorus  laden  with 
sleet  and  snow;  the  waters  round  the  Golden  Horn 
were  lashed  into  foam  and  dashed  in  showers  of  spray 
against  the  battlements  of  the  city.  Amid  the  roar 
of  the  wind  against  the  casements  and  the  creaking 
of  doors  and  shutters  there  were  confused  noises, 
hoarse  whispers,  and  strange  cries  along  the  corridors 
and  antechambers  of  the  palace.  The  empress  her- 
self was  seen  from  time  to  time  gliding  from  chamber 
to  chamber,  her  tigress  eyes  agleam  with  anxiety  and 
eagerness,  her  lovely  face  more  marble-like  in  its  pal- 
lor than  was  usual,  and  her  lips  moving  from  time  to 
time  with  uncontrolled  emotion.  She  bent  low  and 
conferred  in  hurried  whispers,  first  with  one,  then  with 
another  of  her  women. 

The  private  apartments  of  the  empress  consisted 
of  an  antechamber  opening  into  a  gorgeous  bedcham- 
ber, in  the  centre  of  which  stood  a  royal  couch  with 
purple  hangings  and  surmounted  by  a  golden  eagle. 
Around  it  were  vast  chests  and  wardrobes  filled  with 
the  robes  and  adornments  of  the  empress.      Within 

465 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  principal  chamber,  shut  off  by  small  doors,  were 
two  inner  recesses,  one  a  tiny  chapel  with  a  life-size 
painting  of  the  Man-God  upon  the  cross  standing  high 
above  the  altar,  which  was  covered  with  rare  mount- 
ings and  cloth;  the  other  a  bath  and  attiring  recess, 
hung  with  the  instruments  for  the  royal  ablutions. 

A  low  but  distinct  knock  was  heard  without,  and  at 
a  nod  from  Theophano  her  aged  nurse  stealthily  ad- 
vanced to  the  door  and  led  in  a  figure  completely  en- 
veloped in  one  of  the  immense  mourning  cloaks  that  had 
been  used  in  the  funeral  of  that  day.  "  Enter  and  ap- 
proach, master  of  the  eunuchs,"  said  the  sovereign.  "  I 
have  a  charge  for  thee  this  night."  She  motioned  to  the 
women  to  withdraw  into  the  antechamber,  as  the  old 
nurse,  who  alone  had  remained,  led  the  veiled  figure 
to  the  royal  presence  and  unbuckled  the  mantle  which 
concealed  both  face  and  figure.  "It  is  no  work  to- 
night for  a  eunuch,"  she  hissed,  "but  for  a  man,  a 
soldier,  a  hero!  Michael  Bourtzes,  glorious  victor  of 
Antioch,  art  thou  ready  to  do  the  deed  which  shall 
avenge  thee  on  thy  persecutor  and  place  thee  at  the 
head  of  Rome?  Art  thou  ready,  as  I  am  ready,  and 
these  true  men  here?" 

Michael  Bourtzes,  for  it  was  indeed  that  illustrious 
chief  in  full  armor  who  had  been  disguised  and  intro- 
duced as  master  of  the  eunuchs,  flung  back  the  sable 
mantle,  and,  drawing  from  its  sheath  his  dagger,  with 
a  look  of  fierce  passion  and  proud  disdain  kissed  the 
white  hand  of  his  mistress  and  murmured,  "Royal 
lady,  I  am  come  to  slay  or  to  be  slain."  She  glowed  on 
him  with  cruel  joy  in  her  gleaming  eyes,  and  led  him 
smiling  into  the  chapel.  Then,  raising  the  embroid- 
ered cloth  over  the  altar,  with  the  pathetic  image  of 

466 


Clytemnestra 

the  Divine  Mother  worked  on  it  in  gold,  "  Here  is  your 
comrade,"  she  said,  and  showed  him,  concealed  be- 
neath the  altar-cloth,  Balantes,  the  taxiarch,  who  had 
been  hidden  in  his  coat  of  mail  within  the  very  altar 
itself.  The  iron  nerves  of  Bourtzes,  who  had  faced 
death  on  a  hundred  bloody  fields,  did  not  quail  at  so 
strange  a  device,  and  he  silently  obeyed  the  empress 
when  she  bade  him  stand  upon  the  altar  and  conceal 
himself  behind  the  picture  of  the  Redeemer  that  hung 
above  it. 

In  a  lull  of  the  storm  the  low  knock  was  heard  again 
at  the  door,  and  again  the  aged  nurse  hastened  to  un- 
loose the  bolts.  "  Bring  in  my  tiring-women  for  the 
night!"  called  the  empress;  and  four  maids  in  loose 
robes  and  of  somewhat  unusual  stature  and  masculine 
air  advanced  into  the  centre  of  the  bedchamber. 
"Welcome,  stout  friends,"  fawned  the  empress;  "all 
goes  well,  and  the  hour  of  deliverance  is  at  hand!" 
as  one  by  one  the  maids  slipped  off  their  woman's  at- 
tire and  stood  forth  stalwart  men-at-arms,  in  full  array 
for  work  and  combat.  "We  want  now  but  John  Tzi- 
misces  himself;  but  the  watchers  expect  him  minute 
by  minute." 

The  empress  had  hardly  uttered  these  words  when 
the  unmistakable  tramp  of  armed  heels  was  heard 
along  the  corridor  without.  The  four  disguised  bravos 
looked  around  with  rage  and  fear,  under  a  sudden  im- 
pulse that  they  had  been  caught  in  a  trap  and  were 
about  to  be  slain.  Each  man  fingered  his  weapon  un- 
easily; and  had  Theophano  at  that  moment  showed 
signs  of  conscious  treachery,  more  than  one  dagger 
would  have  been  planted  in  her  heart.  The  crone 
rushed  to    the    chamber  -  door  to    secure    the   bolts. 

467 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"Hold  them  in  parley  while  you  may!"  hissed  the 
empress;  "I  will  secure  our  friends!"  "Stand  close, 
and  fear  not,"  she  whispered  to  the  two  chiefs  in  the 
chapel.  "Follow  me,  my  men,"  she  said  to  the  four 
bravos,  as  she  dragged  them  within  the  bath-room  and 
closed  the  door  from  inside. 

In  the  mean  time,  loud  knocking  and  high  words 
were  heard  in  the  antechamber,  and  voices  of  com- 
mand rang  through  the  private  apartments.  "Open 
at  once  in  the  name  of  our  sovereign  lord  Nicephorus, 
Augustus  ever-victorious!  Here  is  the  order  to  search 
every  corner  of  this  palace  for  concealed  traitors, 
countersigned  by  the  master  of  the  household!  Open, 
or  we  force  these  doors!" 

"Not  the  private  chambers  of  her  August  Majesty!" 
screamed  the  crone,  "and  her  sacred  person  now  with- 
in her  couch!" 

"Yea!  Her  Majesty's  chamber,  above  all,  and  her 
bed  if  we  choose,"  shouted  the  angry  voice  of  the 
captain  of  the  guard,  striking  the  door  with  the  hilt 
of  his  sword. 

The  noise  without  grew  so  loud  that  the  terrified 
women  opened  the  doors  and  crouched  aside  like  vixens 
caught  in  a  trap.  "A  mysterious  warning  has  just 
reached  the  emperor  that  traitors  lie  this  night  con- 
cealed within  the  palace,  and  our  orders  are  peremp- 
tory to  search  every  corner  of  it  even  to  the  imperial 
bed  and  closet."  Nor  was  this  a  vain  threat.  The 
captain  of  the  guard,  a  man  devoted  to  his  master, 
whose  life  he  had  saved  in  the  siege  of  Crete,  ordered 
his  men  to  ransack  the  anteroom,  and  then  the  cham- 
ber of  the  empress.  They  were  no  novices  at  the 
work;  every  corner  was  probed;  their  daggers  struck 

468 


Clytemnestra 

through  every  tapestry  and  curtain;  each  recess  and 
chest,  closet  and  niche,  was  tried  and  pierced  through 
and  through  by  sharp  eyes  and  sharper  knives.  The 
coverlets  of  the  imperial  couch  were  flung  aside;  and 
it  being  evident  that  her  Majesty  was  not  within  it, 
the  hangings,  curtains,  and  ornaments  were  separately 
examined  by  sight  and  by  steel. 

Nothing  had  been  found.  "Now  open  these  two 
inner  recesses,  unless  we  are  to  break  into  them  with 
our  halberds,"  said  the  captain  to  the  crone.  "What! 
the  shrine  of  Christ  and  his  Mother?"  shrieked  the 
old  woman,  partially  opening  the  door  of  the  chapel 
and  standing  across  it  fiercely  herself;  "are  you  sac- 
rilegious infidels  about  to  profane  the  holy  retreat  of 
the  Mother  of  God?  Look,  ye  miscreant  sons  of  Ish- 
mael  and  Hagar,  do  ye  see  aught  but  our  blessed 
Redeemer  and  the  Holy  Virgin  who  bore  Him?"  The 
rude  soldier  and  his  men  shrank  from  the  sacrilege  of 
disturbing  the  Christ  and  the  Mother  of  Christ  in  their 
consecrated  shrine.  And  they  hesitated  to  pull  aside 
the  miraculous  picture  of  the  Crucified  One  behind 
which  Bourtzes  held  his  breath,  nor  did  they  venture 
to  raise  the  altar-cloth  that  concealed  the  mailed  form 
and  blanched  face  of  Balantes,  the  taxiarch. 

"Then  open  this!"  shouted  the  captain,  planting 
himself  firmly  before  the  closed  door  of  the  remain- 
ing recess.  "What!"  shrieked  the  crone,  "you  shame- 
less brigand  and  foul  dog,  would  you  thrust  your 
brutal  limbs  into  the  very  bath  of  her  Sacred  Majesty, 
and  she  at  this  moment  within  it,  in  the  very  act  of 
bathing  her  inviolate  person?  Our  august  lord,  the 
autocrator,  will  know  how  to  punish  such  brutality 
and  insolence  to  his  adored  consort!" 

469 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

"I  know  my  duty,"  said  the  captain,  "If  we  have 
any  empress  here,"  he  added,  with  a  rude  sneer, 
"she  wears  a  beard  and  carries  steel.  Open,  I  say, 
or,  by  St.  Michael,  this  door  comes  down  with  a 
crash!" 

But  here,  to  the  unbounded  astonishment  of  the 
captain  of  the  guard,  as  he  stood  close  against  the  en- 
trance ready  to  force  his  way,  the  door  was  flung 
open  from  within;  and  there,  in  front  of  the  bath, 
facing  the  soldier,  stood  the  empress  herself  in  all 
her  majesty  of  port  and  imperious  pride.  She  stood 
there  like  Aphrodite  as  she  rose  out  of  the  Paphian 
waves,  as  naked  and  as  lovely  as  the  queen  of  Cyprus, 
the  water  of  her  bath  still  dripping  from  her  rosy  limbs, 
and  the  masses  of  her  hyacinthine  tresses  curling 
around  that  form  of  Parian  marble.  She  stood  there, 
smiling  a  deadly  smile  of  scorn  and  triumph,  a  vision 
as  it  were,  of  the  Cnidian  statue  of  Praxiteles,  or  Phryne 
when  she  stepped  forth  from  the  billows  on  the  shore 
of  Eleusis. 

"Back!"  she  called  aloud.  "Back!  brutal  hound, 
who  would  violate  the  sanctity  of  thy  sovereign's 
bed!  He  shall  rebuke  the  outrage  which  you  have 
offered  to  my  person;  the  very  eyes  which  have  pol- 
luted my  purity  shall  be  burned  out  with  red-hot 
irons,  and  your  manhood  torn  off  and  thrown  to  the 
dogs.  Begone!  till  I  can  have  thee  made  one  who 
can  never  see  woman  more."  And  she  closed  the  door 
of  the  bath-room,  which  she  had  held  half  open,  so  as 
to  conceal  the  four  bravos  behind  it,  having  hastily 
covered  them  with  the  cloths  and  carpets  with  which 
the  bath  was  provided. 

Aghast  at  so  terrible  a  threat,  and  struck  dumb 
470 


Clytemnestra 

with  so  extraordinary  an  apparition,  the  captain  of 
the  guard  withdrew  with  a  sense  of  unpardonable 
crime,  to  which,  in  his  innocence,  he  supposed  that  his 
duty  had  exposed  him.  He  staggered  down  the  cor- 
ridor like  a  man  who  had  seen  the  dead  rise  from  a 
grave,  perplexed  and  bewildered,  pondering  if  his 
best  chance  lay  in  seeking  the  emperor  in  person  or 
in  making  his  own  flight  secure.  If  the  Mother  of 
God  had  spoken  to  him  directly  from  her  image  he 
could  not  have  been  more  amazed.  And  soon  the 
tramp  of  the  guards  was  heard  to  resound  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  at  last  died  away  in  the  corridors,  echoing 
only  with  the  moanings  of  the  storm. 

The  imperial  chamber  was  hardly  free  from  its  in- 
truding visitors  when  the  empress  burst  into  it  from 
the  bath  in  a  loose  wrapper  which  she  had  flung  over 
her  limbs,  radiant  with  the  success  of  her  str.atagem 
and  on  fire  to  begin  the  work  of  the  night.  She  or- 
dered the  four  bravos  to  keep  close  in  the  bath-room, 
and,  rushing  to  the  chapel,  she  called  to  Balantes  to 
come  forth  from  the  altar,  and  to  Bourtzes  to  descend 
from  behind  the  miracle-working  picture  of  the  Re- 
deemer. The  veteran  thrust  forth  his  huge  form  from 
behind  the  panel,  but  in  so  doing  he  burst  it  from  its 
fastenings,  and  in  his  struggle  to  save  himself  from 
falling  he  tore  the  sacred  image  from  the  wall,  and  it 
fell  to  the  marble  floor  with  a  resounding  crash.  At 
the  sound  all  started  in  dread — the  women,  the  at- 
tendants, the  soldiers  in  hiding,  and  the  two  generals — 
and  dismay  made  the  blood  of  the  stoutest  run  chill. 
The  Christ  was  broken  in  fragments — the  embossed 
ornaments  upon  it  and  its  heavy  setting  lay  on  the 
marble  in  confusion,  and  the  head  of  the  Saviour, 
31  47 1 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

bleeding  in  its  crown  of  thorns,  rolled  at  the  feet  of 
Theophano  herself. 

Even  the  stout  Bourtzes  was  aghast  at  the  sight  of 
the  sacrilege  of  which  he  had  been  guilty,  and  the  rest 
were  cowering,  as  if  the  avenging  God  were  about  to 
consume  them  with  His  thunderbolt.  Men  who  had 
never  quailed  before  the  sons  of  Ishmael  were  struck 
dumb  with  horror  at  the  destruction  of  the  miracu- 
lous ikon.  The  women  screamed  and  sobbed,  and  the 
bravos  quivered  like  whipped  hounds.  Theophano 
sprang  forward,  and,  seizing  a  dagger  from  the  trem- 
bling hand  of  a  soldier,  shouted  to  them:  "What! 
Must  a  woman  teach  men  to  be  firm  ?  Are  you  scared 
like  children  by  the  noise  of  fallen  furniture?  Shall 
I  reveal  the  plot  this  very  instant  to  his  Majesty, 
now  sleeping  behind  this  panel,  and  have  you  all 
blinded  and  mutilated  by  to-morrow's  sun?  Are  you 
all  priests  or  monks,  to  be  frightened  by  a  few  broken 
bits  of  painted  wood  and  stone.  This  is  nothing  but 
old  lumber!"  she  shrieked,  as  she  crushed  with  her 
heel  the  fragment  at  her  feet,  and  stamped  in  derision 
on  the  face  of  the  Saviour.  "Go  on,"  she  cried,  "if 
ye  are  men  and  warriors,  and  care  to  live  another 
day!  But  where  is  the  leader  himself? — where  is 
Tzimisces  ?  Every  instant  may  bring  death  to  him — 
to  us  all — death  and  torture  of  the  sharpest  that  can 
be  devised  by  his  Sacred  Majesty,  the  vicegerent  of 
Christ  on  earth!" 

With  these  words,  in  an  agony  of  eagerness  and  ex- 
citement, she  rushed  to  the  anteroom,  where  the  nar- 
row window  of  a  tower  looked  out  upon  the  sea  below. 
The  storm  was  still  howling  along  the  Bosphorus,  and 
the  watchers,  livid  with  anxiety,  were  straining  their 

472 


Clytemnestra 

eyes  through  the  darkness,  if  they  could  see  any  sign 
of  a  boat  in  the  waters.  "  Nothing  can  float  this  night 
in  such  a  gale,"  said  Bourtzes;  "it  is  idle  to  wait  for 
John.  Let  us  work  this  instant,  for  delay  will  cost  us 
our  lives!" 

"Wait,  I  bid  you!"  cried  Theophano,  in  fury;  "wait 
for  Tzimisces  to  lead,  or  I  pass  to  the  emperor  my- 
self and  denounce  you  as  his  murderers  here!"  Bourtzes 
looked  doubtfully  at  Balantes,  and  Balantes  looked  at 
Bourtzes,  but  neither  dared  brave  the  woman  at  bay. 
Each  hesitated,  and  submitted  to  her  will. 

At  this  time  a  suppressed  cry  broke  out  from  the 
watchers  that  a  small  ship  could  be  descried  battling 
with  the  billows  and  nearing  the  quay,  where  a  tiny 
port  admitted  a  boat  to  the  very  foot  of  the  turret. 
The  empress  flung  herself  into  the  embrasure,  and, 
with  the  gesture  of  a  maenad,  shouted  a  hoarse  note  of 
triumph,  "It  is  he,  my  hero,  my  own  John,  my  sav- 


ior 


With  wonderful  skill  and  good  fortune,  the  stout 
ship  was  driven  into  the  small  dock,  and  in  the  shelter 
of  its  quay  was  able  to  discharge  its  three  passengers. 
The  basket  and  tackle,  with  its  windlass,  that  was  often 
used  for  such  ends,  was  swiftly  lowered  from  the  win- 
dow, and  soon  was  drawn  up  swaying  in  the  gale  but 
deftly  guided  from  below.  And  at  length,  with  hair- 
breadth escapes  and  astonishing  feats  of  strength  and 
adroitness,  John  Tzimisces  crept  from  the  basket  and 
was  dragged  into  the  narrow  embrasure.  He  leaped 
into  the  room,  and,  as  he  was,  all  dripping  with  salt 
foam,  chilled  with  the  snow  and  in  his  coat  of  mail, 
he  flung  himself  desperately  into  the  open  arms  of  the 
empress.     "My  hero,  my  avenger,  my  lord,  my  sov- 

473 


Theophano :  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

ereign  that  is  to  be!"  fawned  Theophano,  pressing  her 
lips  to  his  in  a  torrent  of  wild  kisses.  "The  hour  is 
come,  and  the  man!"  she  cried.  "  Draw  your  weapons 
and  follow  me!" 

The  private  bedchamber  of  the  emperor  was  silent 
and  dark,  dimly  lit  in  one  corner  by  the  ceremonial 
lamp  which  ever  burned  with  a  dull,  veiled  flame  be- 
fore the  altar  and  image  of  Christ.  The  double  doors 
and  heavy  tapestries  which  covered  the  exits  to  the 
corridor  on  one  side  and  to  the  public  hall  of  audience 
on  the  other  side,  effectually  shut  out  the  sound  of 
the  guards  who  still  kept  watch  without.  The  cham- 
ber seemed  empty  and  completely  closed.  Stealthily 
and  without  a  breath  of  sound  the  small  and  secret 
panel  in  the  recess  through  which  the  empress  had 
entered  and  retreated  some  hours  before  was  gradual- 
ly opened  inch  by  inch,  and  an  exquisite  white  hand, 
covered  with  rubies  and  pearls,  could  be  seen  to  be 
holding  it  ajar.  Silence  followed,  broken  only  by  the 
moaning  of  the  surf  below,  and  then  the  lovely  face 
of  Theophano  was  stealthily  thrust  in  the  opening. 
She  was  pale  as  marble;  but  the  transparence  of  her 
skin  and  the  absolute  perfection  of  her  features  made 
her  the  very  image  of  Here  as  figured  by  the  hand  of 
Scopas,  but  a  Here  about  to  strike  some  profane  in- 
truder. The  wonderful  eyes  of  Theophano,  with  their 
deep  sapphire  glow,  had  never  been  seen  so  full  of  fire 
and  life.  It  was  no  marble  head  of  woman  that  men 
saw  that  night,  but  the  head  of  some  lovely  Gorgon, 
with  the  flashing  eyes  of  the  tigress  calculating  her 
spring.  Assured  at  last  that  the  weary  Nicephorus  was 
buried  in  sleep,  she  opened  the  narrow  panel  till  it  ad- 
mitted the  traitors  one  by  one  into  the  sombre  chamber. 

474 


Clytemnestra 

Bourtzes  and  Balantes  passed  in  first,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  John  Tzimisces,  and  behind  him  stole  into 
the  darkness  the  four  men-at-arms.  All  had  their 
weapons  drawn.  At  a  sign  from  Tzimisces  they  sur- 
rounded the  royal  bed  on  all  sides  at  once,  and  as  the 
dim  light  seemed  to  betray  the  person  of  the  emperor 
beneath  the  coverlets,  Bourtzes,  Balantes,  and  John, 
at  a  sign  from  the  latter,  struck  their  daggers  heavily 
into  the  pile  of  clothes.  Thrice  they  struck  in  the 
dim  light,  but  not  a  thing  moved,  nor  did  they  feel  the 
stir  of  living  being.  The  dagger  of  John  had  inflicted 
a  flesh  wound  in  the  arm  of  Bourtzes,  whose  passion 
was  fired  at  the  sight  of  his  own  blood.  They  tore 
the  coverlets  aside  and  flung  them  on  the  floor.  The 
bed  was  empty,  and  no  sign  of  the  emperor's  presence 
could  be  perceived. 

The  three  traitors  stared  at  one  another  with  wild 
eyes;  and,  brave  as  they  all  were,  they  felt  their  hearts 
beat  loud.  "We  are  betrayed  by  this  fiend!"  cried 
Bourtzes,  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "  She  has  lured  us  here 
for  her  own  evil  purpose.  Let  us  slay  her  in  her  sin, 
even  if  it  cost  us  our  lives."  And  Bourtzes  and  Bal- 
antes glared  upon  Tzimisces,  as  if  they  would  accuse 
him  of  being  an  accomplice  of  the  woman  in  the  plot  to 
entrap  them.  Tzimisces  himself  was  at  a  loss,  and  the 
four  bravos  stood  livid  with  confusion,  as  furtive  as 
rats  in  a  trap.  It  seemed  to  all  that  they  were  on  the 
verge  of  a  desperate  combat  among  themselves  or 
headlong  flight  by  flinging  themselves  out  into  the  sea 
and  terrace  below. 

Then  the  panel  door,  behind  which  Theophano  had 
been  listening  breathless,  opened  again,  and  the  em- 
press passed  in,  moving  swiftly  and  noiselessly  in  her 

475 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

bare  feet,  wrapped  in  a  loose,  red  mantle  and  dishev- 
elled tresses,  her  eyes  gleaming  like  coals  of  fire  beneath 
her  marble  brow.  She  looked  like  some  masnad  lead- 
ing a  mad  rout  of  furious  satyrs.  She  spoke  no  word, 
but  she  waved  her  bare  arm  and  pointed  across  the 
chamber  to  the  corner  where,  on  the  panther's  skin, 
and  concealed  under  the  shaggy  mantle  of  the  hermit, 
Nicephorus  lay  motionless  in  sleep. 

Bourtzes  and  Balantes  advanced  with  drawn  swords 
and  death  in  their  eyes,  followed  by  the  men-at-arms, 
while  John  Tzimisces  stood  by  the  couch  to  give  the 
word  of  command.  "Strike  the  tyrant!"  he  hissed, 
in  a  hoarse  whisper.  Balantes,  with  a  savage  kick  of 
his  cavalry  boot,  struck  the  sleeping  emperor  in  the 
side.  He  started  convulsively  from  the  floor,  and 
struggled  on  to  his  elbow,  gazing  fiercely  at  the  as- 
sassins, as  his  cap  fell  from  his  head  and  disclosed  in 
the  dim  light  his  white  locks  and  beard.  At  that 
moment,  with  a  horrid  curse,  the  sword  of  Bourtzes 
descended  on  the  brow  of  the  veteran,  gashing  his  nose 
and  cheek  and  lips,  and  horribly  mangling  his  face. 
He  sank  down,  blinded  with  the  blood  and  agonized 
with  the  wound,  gasping  out,  "Mother  of  God! — help! 
— help !"  The  bravos  seized  him  by  the  legs  and  sought 
to  force  the  fainting  body  to  kneel  before  the  Arme- 
nian, who  sat  on  the  couch  in  an  attitude  of  mock 
judgment.  But  the  mutilated  hero  sank  prone  on  the 
floor,  which  he  bathed  in  his  blood — faintly  gasping 
out  the  words,  "Help!     Mother  of  God! — help!" 

Tzimisces  spurned  him  with  his  mailed  foot,  and  all 
his  pent-up  rage  and  hatred  burst  forth  in  one  cry 
of  triumph:  "Tyrant!  traitor!  miscreant!  Why  didst 
thou  play  me  false?     Thou  owest  to  me  thy  glory,  thy 

476 


Clytemnestra 

victories,  thy  throne!  Without  me  thou  wouldst  be 
nothing.  It  is  I  who  beat  thy  enemies,  it  is  I  who  placed 
thee  here,  and  set  thee  on  the  throne  which  thou  hast 
disgraced.  And  all  my  services  have  been  repaid  by 
injuries  and  my  benefits  answered  by  insults.  Envy 
of  a  braver  man,  jealousy,  and  suspicion  have  turned 
thee  into  a  monster  of  ingratitude  and  a  by-word  of 
falseness  and  cruelty."  With  these  words,  John,  in 
his  rage,  trampled  on  his  fallen  chief,  and,  hoarse  with 
passion,  he  tore  handfuls  from  his  beard,  screaming 
aloud:  "All  loathe  thee — thy  people,  thy  comrades, 
thy  servants — ay,  and  thy  wife,"  he  added,  with  a 
savage  grin,  stamping  on  the  mangled  and  bloody  face. 

"Mother! — Mother  of  God!"  groaned  the  dying  man 
with  his  last  gasp. 

Maddened  with  rage  and  pent-up  vengeance,  the  con- 
spirators beat  the  unconscious  body  on  the  floor.  They 
smashed  his  jaw  and  broke  in  his  teeth  with  the  pom- 
mel of  their  swords,  and  hacked  him  limb  by  limb. 
Then  John,  sweeping  once  more  aloft  his  dripping 
sword,  smote  him  through  the  skull  so  that  the  brains 
poured  forth. 

The  noise  of  the  murder  and  the  hoarse  cries  of  the 
murderers  at  last  penetrated  to  the  guard  in  the  cor- 
ridors outside.  They,  not  daring  to  break  in  without 
command,  sent  for  help  and  orders  to  the  main  corps 
on  guard  in  the  outer  court.  These  Varangians, 
wholly  consisting  of  northern  soldiers,  devoted  to  the 
person  of  the  emperor  dc  facto,  rushed  forth  to  break 
into  the  palace  by  the  bronze  portal,  which  they  found 
barred  by  the  conspirators.  The  rumor  of  a  palace 
intrigue  ran  through  the  city.  Wild  mobs,  mixed 
with  soldiers  and  priests,  gathered  round  the  palace 

477 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

walls,  ,and  fierce  cries  were  raised  by  the  surging  mul- 
titudes below.  Leo,  the  brother  of  Nicephorus,  was 
hastening  to  the  gates  with  a  band  of  Varangians  and 
followed  by  his  partisans. 

All  at  once  a  powerful  light,  cast  by  many  torches, 
is  seen  by  the  mob  below  at  the  window  of  the  palace. 
John  Tzimisces,  already  in  the  imperial  purple,  and 
fully  robed,  appears  before  the  crowd  beneath;  and  as 
he  withdraws  from  the  confused  shouts  they  send  forth, 
Theodorus,  his  lieutenant,  leaps  into  the  window,  and 
there  brandishes  in  sight  of  all  the  mangled,  bloody 
head  of  him  who,  but  an  hour  before,  was  emperor 
of  the  Roman  world.  The  mob  below  uttered  hoarse 
yells  of  different  import  —  joy  mingled  with  horror; 
but  amazement  and  fear  prevailed.  The  Varangian 
guardsmen  stood  to  arms,  impassive,  waiting  for  or- 
ders from  the  emperor.  Neither  politics  nor  rights 
nor  dynasties  troubled  them.  They  were  ready  to 
die  in  defence  of  a  living  autocrat;  they  would  not 
avenge  a  dead  one.  Wulf,  the  son  of  Sigurd,  their 
chief,  cried  out  aloud:  "When  an  emperor  is  crowned 
and  gives  the  word,  we  will  march  and  fight.  We 
take  no  orders  from  a  corpse!" 

Seeing  the  Varangians  stubbornly  impassive  and 
the  chief  nobles  bewildered,  the  vast  crowd  of  the 
city  became  paralyzed  with  fear  and  gradually  melted 
away.  Black  clouds  laden  with  sleet  from  the  Euxine 
swept  across  the  turbid  sky,  and  the  storm  howled 
round  the  gloomy  battlements  of  the  Sacred  Palace. 
Snow  now  lay  thick  on  the  ground  and  covered  the  ter- 
races below.  The  headless  corpse  of  the  mighty  lord 
of  Rome,  maimed,  bloody,  and  crushed  out  of  all  re- 
semblance to  man,  was  flung  from  the  palace  window 

478 


Clytemnestra 

in  a  heap,  and  lay  all  day  a  ghastly  sight  on  the  ground, 
staining  the  snow  with  its  gore.  And  above  it  at  the 
window  dangled  on  a  chain  in  the  wind  the  mutilated 
head  of  Nicephorus  Ever- victorious,  that  head  of 
which  the  sight  had  so  often  struck  terror  into  the 
ranks  of  the  Saracens,  and  had  so  often,  on  many  a 
wavering  field,  given  new  life  to  the  warriors  of  Rome 
and  of  Christ. 


XXXIII 
Retribution 

THE  blood  had  hardly  ceased  to  flow  from  the 
wounds  of  the  murdered  emperor  when  the  con- 
spirators hurried  from  Boucoleon,  the  scene  of  their 
crime,  to  the  great  halls  of  the  Sacred  Palace,  in  order 
to  enthrone  a  new  autocrator  in  the  person  of  John, 
the  Armenian.  All  had  been  carefully  prepared  by 
the  arts  of  Theophano  and  the  skill  of  Tzimisces.  His 
agents  and  ministers  hurried  about  the  throng  of 
grandees  and  officials,  loading  some  with  gifts,  some 
with  offices,  all  with  promises  and  seduction.  Tzimis- 
ces was  hastily  robed  in  the  imperial  purple  and 
adorned  with  the  regal  insignia — he  was  shod  in  the 
vermilion  buskins  and  crowned  with  the  august  dia- 
dem of  high  state.  The  venerable  patriarch  had  been 
summoned  to  his  office,  and  serried  ranks  of  chamber- 
lains, officers,  spathaires,  priests,  and  eunuchs  were 
gathered  together  in  the  golden  throne-room. 

With  a  blare  of  trumpets  and  the  chant  of  choristers 
in  unison,  Tzimisces  advanced  amid  his  guards  and 
officials,  radiant  with  triumph,  but  still  keen  and  anx- 
ious. The  pompous  ceremony  was  begun  and  hurried 
through  by  the  eagerness  and  fear  of  all  present,  and 
amid  breathless  interest  a  second  cortege  advanced, 
more  beautiful,  if  less  numerous,  than  the  last;  and 

480 


Retribution 

Theophano  appeared  amid  her  maidens  and  ladies  of 
honor,  smiling  like  Aphrodite  when  she  entered  the 
circle  of  Olympus,  more  lovely  than  ever,  radiant  with 
pride  and  love.  With  pride,  for  she  had  achieved  the 
most  desperate  of  all  her  adventures  and  crushed  her 
most  hated  enemy ;  with  love,  for  she  beamed  on  her 
new  lover  with  all  the  self-abandonment  of  passion. 
She  stepped  through  the  gorgeous  hall  like  the  goddess 
at  once  of  Empire  and  of  Love,  and  was  about  to  take 
her  place  beside  the  throne  of  Tzimisces,  on  a  couch 
which  had  been  placed  on  the  dais  beside  him. 

"Holy  and  venerable  patriarch,"  said  John,  in  a 
voice  of  thunder,  "  your  office  to-day  is  twofold.  First 
you  will  unite  me  and  this  royal  lady  beside  me  in  holy 
matrimony,  and  then  you  will  pronounce  us  to  the 
Roman  world  as  anointed  Augustus  and  Augusta." 

"That  shall  never  be!"  rang  out  the  clear  voice  of 
the  aged  patriarch.  "We  acknowledge  thee  Lord 
John  Tzimisces,  our  sovereign  autocrator,  and  I  will 
anoint  thee  with  the  blessing  of  God  and  his  Begotten 
Son;  but  never  shall  that  woman  be  thy  consort  on 
the  throne,  nor  will  I  join  her  in 'holy  marriage  to  thee 
or  any  other  man.  She,  the  adulteress,  the  murderess, 
the  profaner  of  the  altar  and  the  Church  —  she  shall 
not  pollute  the  Sacred  Palace  again.  Drive  her  forth, 
in  the  name  of  Christ  and  His  Mother,  drive  her  forth 
from  the  Sacred  Palace,  or  cease  to  pretend  to  it  thy- 
self. Choose  between  God  and  this  woman,  John,  son 
of  Theophilus.  I  have  spoken  in  the  name  of  the 
saints  who  watch  over  us." 

Theophano  shrieked  with  rage,  and  John  foamed  at 
the  mouth  in  his  indignation  and  wrath.  But,  as  he 
looked  around  him  in  the  vast  hall  and  closely  scanned 

481 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

the  looks  of  his  officers  and  soldiers,  he  perceived  but 
too  clearly  that  the  patriarch  had  the  whole  audience 
in  his  power.  Balantes  thrust  himself  through  the 
crowd  of  grandees  around  the  expectant  emperor,  and 
whispered  in  a  voice  of  intense  excitement  in  the  ear 
of  Tzimisces.  "John,  son  of  Theophilus,  listen  to  me 
— it  is  life  or  death  to  us  both.  The  patriarch  has 
already  suborned  the  most  powerful  of  the  nobles  and 
officials  about  you,  and  he  will  anoint  Bourtzes  as 
autocrator  if  you  refuse  to  put  away  the  woman. 
Choose,  then,  between  her,  with  a  dungeon  and  muti- 
lation to  her  portion,  or  the  throne  of  Rome  and  the 
world.     To  hesitate  is  to  be  lost!" 

As  he  spoke,  Theophano  could  no  longer  be  held 
back  by  the  eunuchs  around  her,  and  she  forced  her 
way  to  the  side  of  Tzimisces.  "John,  my  own  hero, 
my  love,  my  king,  I  have  loved  you  wildly  since  my 
eyes  first  saw  you.  I  have  sacrificed  my  life,  my  soul, 
my  children  for  you.  If  I  have  sinned,  it  was  for  love 
of  you,  that  I  might  have  you  to  myself,  and  be  free 
from  the  monster  who  outraged  us  both  at  once,  whom 
you  can  only  torture  any  more,  now  that  he  is  in  hell, 
by  letting  him  see  me  in  your  arms  and  proving  to 
him  at  last  what  is  the  real  love  of  a  woman.  Save 
me,  John — take  me  and  hold  me.  You  owe  all  to  me — 
your  life  that  I  saved  from  his  vengeance,  your  revenge 
which  you  have  yet  to  complete,  the  throne  of  Rome, 
from  which  this  wretched  monk  would  debar  you,  the 
noblest  Roman  of  them  all.  We  have  won  it  to- 
gether. We  will  mount  it  and  hold  it  together.  Come 
to  me;  be  the  man,  the  hero  that  you  are.  Love  me, 
and  you  shall  see  how  I  can  love." 

Again  the  patriarch  spoke  in  a  voice  of  awful  solem- 
482 


Retribution 

nity  amid  the  most  profound  silence  in  the  vast  hall: 
"John  Tzimisces,  thou  shalt  not  pollute  the  conse- 
crated throne  of  our  imperial  line  by  dragging  into 
it  this  unholy  woman.  Order  her  this  instant  into 
captivity  in  a  convent  to  be  dedicated  to  God  for  what 
remains  to  her  of  life  on  earth.  Failing  this,  with  the 
assent  of  the  chief  notables  of  Rome,  I  consecrate 
another  as  autocrator  and  Augustus,  vicegerent  and 
tutor  of  Basil  and  Constantine,  grandsons  both  of  our 
venerated  Constantine  Porphyrogennetus.  Priests  of 
God  and  His  Mother,  nobles  and  soldiers  of  Rome, 
do  I  speak  the  words  of  justice,  of  Rome,  and  of  Holy 
Church?" 

A  deep  murmur  of  assent  rang  through  the  hall,  and 
the  keen  eye  of  Tzimisces  saw  the  inevitable  sentence 
on  the  woman  in  the  countenances  of  all  around.  The 
young  princes,  Basil  and  Constantine,  shrank  from 
their  mother's  women,  and  took  their  place  by  the 
side  of  the  patriarch,  as  fully  comprehending  the  nat- 
ure of  his  threat.  At  that  sight -Theophano  sprang 
forward  like  a  tigress,  struck  the  child  Basil  twice 
across  the  mouth  till  his  blood  gushed  forth  over  her 
royal  robes,  screaming,  "Are  ye  all  curs  and  traitors 
together?  Mongrel  priest,  bastard  child,  false  lover, 
slaves,  eunuchs,  I  defy  ye  all,  I  curse  ye  all!"  And 
with  these  words  she  fell  forward  fainting  in  the  arms 
of  the  black  guards,  who  seized  her  and  held  her  in 
their  unsparing  grasp. 

John  Tzimisces  heaved  a  deep  groan,  and  at  last, 
raising  his  hand  high  above  his  head,  in  a  voice  of 
subdued  passion  and  fierce  command,  he  cried:  "Holy 
patriarch,  ye  servants  of  the  Most  High,  chiefs,  no- 
bles,  and   soldiers   of   Rome,  I    acknowledge   my  sin 

483 


Theophano:  The  Crusade  of  the  Tenth  Century 

in  that  I  was  seduced  by  the  woman.  Take  her  into 
strict  imprisonment,  and  let  her  be  immured  in  a  con- 
vent in  a  distant  island  of  the  Euxine,  so  that  she  never 
again  persuade  man  to  evil,  as  she  was  about  to  per- 
suade myself.  Venerable  patriarch,  do  thy  office  as 
of  right.  Your  words  have  triumphed.  The  evil  one 
is  put  away  from  Rome  forever." 


^    o 
UNIV 


THE    END 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 
or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewals  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 
Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  date  due. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

EEC'DLO    MM  23  71 -»flMi  » 


LD21A-50m-2,'71  Uru^eX^CaKnia 

(P2001sl0)476— A-32  VmveK1^Xlhv 


Berkeley 


jft£rxv£>ff>\ 


¥ 


